THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 


"  It  was  Senorita  Mendoza." 


(Page  37-) 


THE  CRAIG  KENNEDY  5ERIE5 


•> 


THE 

GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 
ARTHUR  D.REEVE 


FRONTISPIECE  BY 
WILL   FOSTER 


HARPER  $  BROTHERS- PU5LI5HER5 

MEW    YORK     AND    LONDON 


•'. 


'. 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Copyright.  1915,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

A-T 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I  THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER        .  .         i 

II  THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE    .  .       15 

III  THE  ARCHAEOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE  .       27 

IV  THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS     .  .       37 
V  THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER  .      49 

VI  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE    .  .61 

VII  THE  ARROW  POISON    ...       73 

VIII  THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER     .  .       85 

IX  THE  PAPER  FIBRES     ...      97 

X  THE  X-RAY  READER    .         .  .109 

XI  THE  SHOE-PRINTS       .         .  .121 

XII  THE  EVIL  EYE   .         .         .  .132 

XIII  THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE    .  .144 

XIV  THE  INTERFEROMETER          .  .154 
XV  THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS       .  .165 

XVI  THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL        .  .     176 

XVII  THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  AIR    .  .189 

XVIII  THE  ANTIDOTE  .         .         .  .     199 

V 

2064133 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XIX  THE  BURGLAR  POWDER 

XX  THE  PULMOTOR  . 

XXI  THE  TELESCRIBE 

XXII  THE  VANISHER  . 

XXIII  THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH 

XXIV  THE  POLICE  DOG 
XXV  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 


211 
223 

234 
244 

257 
269 
282 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 


THE.PERUVIAN  DAGGER 

"fTTMrlERE'S  something  weird  and  mysterious 
A  about  the  robbery,  Kennedy.  They  took  the 
very  thing  I  treasure  most  of  all,  an  ancient  Peruvian 
dagger." 

Professor  Allan  Norton  was  very  much  excited 
as  he  dropped  into  Craig's  laboratory  early  that 
forenoon. 

Norton,  I  may  say,  was  one  of  the  younger  mem 
bers  of  the  faculty,  like  Kennedy.  Already,  how 
ever,  he  had  made  for  himself  a  place  as  one  of  the 
foremost  of  South  American  explorers  and  archae 
ologists. 

"  How  they  got  into  the  South  American  section 
of  the  Museum,  though,  I  don't  understand,"  he 
hurried  on.  "  But,  once  in,  that  they  should  take 
the  most  valuable  relic  I  brought  back  with  me  on 
this  last  expedition,  I  think  certainly  shows  that  it 
was  a  robbery  with  a  deep-laid,  premeditated  pur 
pose." 

"  Nothing  else  is  gone?  "  queried  Kennedy. 

"  Nothing,"  returned  the  professor.  "  That's  the 
strangest  part  of  it — to  me.  It  was  a  peculiar  dag- 


2  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

ger,  too,"  he  continued  reminiscently.  "  I  say  that 
it  was  valuable,  for  on  the  blade  were  engraved  some 
curious  Inca  characters.  I  wasn't  able  to  take  the 
time  to  decipher  them,  down  there,  for  the  age  of 
the  metal  made  them  almost  illegible.  But  now  that 
I  have  all  my  stuff  unpacked  and  arranged  after  my 
trip,  I  was  just  about  to  try — when  along  comes  a 
thief  and  robs  me.  We  can't  have  the  University 
Museum  broken  into  that  way,  you  know,  Ken 
nedy." 

"  I  should  say  not,"  readily  assented  Craig.  "  I'd 
like  to  look  the  place  over." 

"  Just  what  I  wanted,"  exclaimed  Norton,  heart 
ily  delighted,  and  leading  the  way. 

We  walked  across  the  campus  with  him  to  the 
Museum,  still  chatting.  Norton  was  a  tall,  spare 
man,  wiry,  precisely  the  type  one  would  pick  to  make 
an  explorer  in  a  tropical  climate.  His  features  were 
sharp,  suggesting  a  clear  and  penetrating  mind  and 
a  disposition  to  make  the  most  of  everything,  no 
matter  how  slight.  Indeed  that  had  been  his  his 
tory,  I  knew.  He  had  come  to  college  a  couple  of 
years  before  Kennedy  and  myself,  almost  penniless, 
and  had  worked  his  way  through  by  doing  every 
thing  from  waiting  on  table  to  tutoring.  To-day  he 
stood  forth  as  a  shining  example  of  self-made  intel 
lectual  man,  as  cultured  as  if  he  had  sprung  from 
a  race  of  scholars,  as  practical  as  if  he  had  taken  to 
mills  rather  than  museums. 

We  entered  a  handsome  white-marble  building  in 
the  shape  of  a  rectangle,  facing  the  University  Li- 


THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER  3 

brary,  a  building,  by  the  way,  which  Norton  had  per 
suaded  several  wealthy  trustees  and  other  donors  to 
erect.  Kennedy  at  once  began  examining  the  section 
devoted  to  Latin  America,  going  over  everything 
very  carefully. 

I  looked  about,  too.  There  were  treasures  from 
Mexico  and  Peru,  from  every  romantic  bit  of  the 
wonderful  countries  south  of  us — blocks  of  por 
phyry  with  quaint  grecques  and  hieroglyphic  paint 
ing  from  Mitla,  copper  axes  and  pottery  from  Cuzco, 
sculptured  stones  and  mosaics,  jugs,  cups,  vases,  little 
gods  and  great,  sacrificial  stones,  a  treasure  house 
of  Aztec  and  Inca  lore — enough  to  keep  one  occu 
pied  for  hours  merely  to  look  at. 

Yet,  I  reflected,  following  Norton,  in  all  this  mass 
of  material,  the  thief  seemed  to  have  selected  one, 
apparently  insignificant,  dagger,  the  thing  which 
Norton  prized  because,  somehow,  it  bore  on  its 
blade  something  which  he  had  not,  as  yet,  been  able 
to  fathom. 

Though  Kennedy  looked  thoroughly  and  pa 
tiently,  it  seemed  as  though  there  was  nothing  there 
to  tell  any  story  of  the  robbery,  and  he  turned  his 
attention  at  last  to  other  parts  of  the  Museum.  As 
he  made  his  way  about  slowly,  I  noted  that  he  was 
looking  particularly  into  corners,  behind  cabinets, 
around  angles.  What  he  expected  to  find  I  could 
not  even  guess. 

Further  along  and  on  the  same  side  of  the  build 
ing  we  came  to  the  section  devoted  to  Egyptology. 
Kennedy  paused.  Standing  there,  upright  against 


4  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

the  wall,  was  a  mummy  case.  To  me,  even  now,  the 
thing  had  a  creepy  look.  Craig  pushed  aside  the 
stone  lid  irreverently  and  gazed  keenly  into  the  un 
canny  depths  of  the  stone  sarcophagus.  An  instant 
later  he  was  down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  care 
fully  examining  the  interior  by  means  of  a  pocket 
lens. 

"  I  think  I  have  made  a  start,"  he  remarked,  ris 
ing  to  his  feet  and  facing  us  with  an  air  of  satis 
faction. 

We  said  nothing,  and  he  pointed  to  some  almost 
undiscernible  marks  in  a  thin  layer  of  dust  that  had 
collected  in  the  sarcophagus. 

"  If  I'm  not  mistaken,"  he  went  on,  "  your  thief 
got  into  the  Museum  during  the  daytime,  and,  when 
no  one  was  looking,  hid  here.  He  must  have  stayed 
until  the  place  was  locked  up  at  night.  Then  he 
could  rob  at  his  leisure,  only  taking  care  to  confine 
his  operations  to  the  time  between  the  rather  infre 
quent  rounds  of  the  night  watchman." 

Kennedy  bent  down  again.  "  Look,"  he  indi 
cated.  "  There  are  the  marks  of  shoes  in  the  dust, 
shoes  with  nails  in  the  heels,  of  course.  I  shall  have 
to  compare  the  marks  that  I  have  found  here  with 
those  I  have  collected,  following  out  the  method  of 
the  immortal  Bertillon.  Every  make  of  shoes  has 
its  own  peculiarities,  both  in  the  number  and  the 
arrangement  of  the  nails.  Offhand,  however,  I 
should  say  that  these  shoes  were  American-made — 
though  that,  of  course,  does  not  necessarily  mean 
ihat  an  American  wore  them.  I  may  even  be  able 


THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER  5 

to  determine  which  of  a  number  of  individual  pairs 
of  shoes  made  the  marks.  I  cannot  tell  that  yet, 
until  I  study  them.  Walter,  I  wish  you'd  go  over  to 
my  laboratory.  In  the  second  right-hand  drawer  of 
my  desk  you'll  find  a  package  of  paper.  I'd  like  to 
have  it." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  preserve  the 
marks?"  I  heard  Norton  hint,  as  I  left.  He  had 
been  watching  Kennedy  in  open-eyed  amazement  and 
interest. 

"  Exactly  what  I  am  sending  Walter  to  do,"  he 
returned.  "  I  have  some  specially  prepared  paper 
that  will  take  those  dust  marks  up  and  give  me  a 
perfect  replica." 

I  hurried  back  as  fast  as  I  could,  and  Kennedy 
bent  to  the  task  of  preserving  the  marks. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  who  might  have  an  object  in 
stealing  the  dagger?  "  Kennedy  asked,  when  he  had 
finished. 

Norton  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  believe  some 
weird  superstitions  were  connected  with  it,"  he  re 
plied.  "  It  had  a  three-sided  blade,  and,  as  I  told 
you,  both  the  blade  and  the  hilt  were  covered  with 
peculiar  markings." 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  more  that  could  be 
discovered  from  a  further  examination  of  the  Mu 
seum.  It  was  plain  enough  that  the  thief  must  have 
let  himself  out  of  a  side  door  which  had  a  spring 
lock  on  it  and  closed  itself.  Not  a  mark  or  scratch 
was  to  be  found  on  any  of  the  window  or  door 
locks ;  nothing  else  seemed  to  have  been  disturbed. 


6  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Evidently  the  thief  had  been  after  that  one,  to  him 
priceless,  object.  Having  got  it,  he  was  content  tc 
get  away,  leaving  untouched  the  other  treasures, 
some  of  which  were  even  intrinsically  valuable  for 
the  metal  and  precious  stones  in  them.  The  whole 
affair  seemed  so  strange  to  me,  however,  that,  some 
how,  I  could  not  help  wondering  whether  Norton 
had  told  us  the  whole  or  only  half  the  story  as  he 
knew  it  about  the  dagger  and  its  history. 

Still  talking  with  the  archaeologist,  Kennedy  and  1 
returned  to  his  laboratory. 

We  had  scarcely  reached  the  door  when  we  heard 
the  telephone  ringing  insistently.  I  answered,  and 
it  happened  to  be  a  call  for  me.  It  was  the  editoi 
of  the  Star  endeavouring  to  catch  me,  before  ] 
started  downtown  to  the  office,  in  order  to  give  me 
an  assignment. 

"  That's  strange,"  I  exclaimed,  hanging  up  the 
receiver  and  turning  to  Craig.  u  I've  got  to  go  oul 
on  a  murder  case " 

"An  interesting  case?"  asked  Craig,  interrupt 
ing  his  own  train  of  investigation  with  a  flash  oJ 
professional  interest. 

"  Why,  a  man  has  been  murdered  in  his  apart 
ment  on  Central  Park,  West,  I  believe.  Luis  de 
Mendoza  is  the  name,  and  it  seems " 

"Don  Luis  de  Mendoza?"  repeated  Norton 
with  a  startled  exclamation.  "  Why,  he  was  an  in 
fluential  Peruvian,  a  man  of  affairs  in  his  country 
and  an  accomplished  scholar.  I — I — if  you  don't 


THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER  7 

mind,  I'd  like  to  go  over  with  you.  I  know  the 
Mendozas." 

Kennedy  was  watching  Norton's  face  keenly.  "  I 
think  I'll  go,  too,  Walter,"  he  decided.  "  You  won't 
lack  assistants  on  this  story,  apparently." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  be  of  some  assistance  to  them, 
also,"  put  in  Norton  to  Kennedy,  as  we  left. 

It  was  only  a  short  ride  downtown,  and  our  cab 
soon  pulled  up  before  a  rather  ornate  entrance  of  a 
large  apartment  in  one  of  the  most  exclusive  sec 
tions  of  the  city.  We  jumped  out  and  entered,  suc 
ceeding  in  making  our  way  to  the  sixth  floor,  where 
Mendoza  lived,  without  interference  from  the  hall- 
boy,  who  had  been  completely  swamped  by  the  rush 
that  followed  the  excitement  of  finding  one  of  the 
tenants  murdered. 

There  was  no  missing  the  place.  The  hall  had 
been  taken  over  by  the  reporters,  who  had  estab 
lished  themselves  there,  terrible  as  an  army  with 
concealed  pads  and  pencils.  From  one  of  the  morn 
ing  men  already  there  I  learned  that  our  old  friend 
Dr.  Leslie,  the  coroner,  was  already  in  charge. 

Somehow,  whether  it  was  through  Kennedy's  ac 
quaintance  with  Dr.  Leslie  or  Norton's  acquaint 
ance  with  the  Mendozas  and  the  Spanish  tongue,  we 
found  ourselves  beyond  the  barrier  of  the  door 
which  shut  out  my  rivals. 

As  we  stood  for  a  moment  in  a  handsome  and 
tastefully  furnished  living  room  a  young  lady 
passed  through  hurriedly.  She  paused  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  as  she  saw  us  and  eyed  us  tremulously, 


8  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

as  though  to  ask  us  why  we  had  intruded.  It  was  a 
rather  awkward  situation. 

Quickly  Norton  came  to  the  rescue.  "  I  hope  you 
will  pardon  me,  Sefiorita,"  he  bowed  in  perfect 
Spanish,  "  but " 

"  Oh,  Professor  Norton,  it  is  you  1  "  she  cried  in 
English,  recognizing  him.  "  I'm  so  nervous  that  I 
didn't  see  you  at  first." 

She  glanced  from  him  to  us,  inquiringly.  I  rec 
ollected  that  my  editor  had  mentioned  a  daughter 
who  might  prove  to  be  an  interesting  and  important 
figure  in  the  mystery.  She  spoke  in  an  overwrought, 
agitated  tone.  I  studied  her  furtively. 

Inez  de  Mendoza  was  unmistakably  beautiful,  of 
the  dark  Spanish  type,  with  soft  brown  eyes  that 
appealed  to  one  when  she  talked,  and  a  figure  which 
at  any  less  tragic  moment  one  might  have  been  par 
doned  for  admiring.  Her  soft  olive  skin,  masses  of 
dark  hair,  and  lustrous,  almost  voluptuous,  eyes 
contrasted  wonderfully  with  the  finely  chiselled  lines 
of  her  nose,  the  firm  chin,  and  graceful  throat  and 
neck.  Here  one  recognized  a  girl  of  character  and 
family  in  the  depths  of  whose  soul  smouldered  all 
the  passion  of  a  fiery  race. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  intruding,"  Nor 
ton  repeated.  "  Believe  me,  it  is  not  with  mere  idle 
curiosity.  Let  me  introduce  my  friend,  Professoi 
Kennedy,  the  scientific  detective,  of  whom  you  have 
heard,  no  doubt.  This  is  his  assistant,  Mr.  Jame^ 
son,  of  the  Star.  I  thought  perhaps  they  might  stanc 
between  you  and  that  crowd  in  the  hall,"  he  added 


THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER  9 

motioning  toward  the  reporters  on  the  other  side  of 
the  door.  "  You  can  trust  them  absolutely.  I'm 
sure  that  if  there  is  anything  any  of  us  can  do  to 
aid  you  in — in  your  trouble,  you  may  be  sure  that 
we  are  at  your  service." 

She  looked  about  a  moment  in  the  presence  of 
three  strangers  who  had  invaded  the  quietness  of 
what  had  been,  at  least  temporarily,  home.  She 
seemed  to  be  seeking  some  one  on  whom  to  lean, 
as  though  some  support  had  suddenly  been  knocked 
from  under  her,  leaving  her  dazed  at  the  change. 

"  Oh,  madre  de  Dios!  "  she  cried.  "  What  shall 
I  do?  Oh,  my  father — my  poor  father!  " 

Inez  Mendoza  was  really  a  pathetic  and  appeal 
ing  figure  as  she  stood  there  in  the  room,  alone. 

Quickly  she  looked  us  over,  as  if,  by  some  sort 
of  occult  intuition  of  woman,  she  were  reading  our 
souls.  Then,  instinctively  almost,  she  turned  to 
Kennedy.  Kennedy  seemed  to  recognize  her  need. 
Norton  and  I  retired,  somewhat  more  than  figura 
tively. 

"  You — you  are  a  detective?  "  she  queried.  '  You 
can  read  mystery — like  a  book?  " 

Kennedy  smiled  encouragingly.  "  Hardly  as  my 
friend  Walter  here  often  paints  me,"  he  returned. 
"  Still,  now  and  then,  we  are  able  to  use  the  vast 
knowledge  of  wise  men  the  world  over  to  help  those 
in  trouble.  Tell  me — everything,"  he  soothed,  as 
though  knowing  that  to  talk  would  prove  a  safety- 
value  for  her  pent-up  emotions.  "  Perhaps  I  can 
help  you." 


io  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
Then,  almost  before  she  knew  it,  apparently,  she 
began  to  talk  to  him,  forgetting  that  we  were  in 
the  room. 

"  Tell  me  how  the  thing  happened,  all  that  you 
know,  how  you  found  it  out,"  prompted  Craig. 

"Oh,  it  was  midnight,  last  night;  yes,  late,"  she 
returned  wildly.  "  I  was  sleeping  when  my  maid, 
Juanita,  wakened  me  and  told  me  that  Mr.  Lock- 
wood  was  in  the  living  room  and  wanted  to  see  me, 
must  see  me.  I  dressed  hurriedly,  for  it  came  to 
me  that  something  must  be  the  matter.  I  think  I 
must  have  come  out  sooner  than  they  expected,  for 
before  they  knew  it  I  had  run  across  the  living  room 
and  looked  through  the  door  into  the  den,  you  call 
it,  over  there." 

She  pointed  at  a  heavy  door,  but  did  not,  evidently 
could  not,  let  her  eyes  rest  on  it. 

"  There  was  my  father,  huddled  in  a  chair,  and 
blood  had  run  out  from  an  ugly  wound  in  his  side. 
I  screamed  and  fell  on  my  knees  beside  him.  But," 
she  shuddered,  "  it  was  too  late.  He  was  cold.  He 
did  not  answer." 

Kennedy  said  nothing,  but  let  her  weep  into  her 
dainty  lace  handkerchief,  though  the  impulse  was 
strong  to  do  anything  to  calm  her  grief. 

"  Mr.  Lockwood  had  come  in  to  visit  him  on 
business,  had  found  the  door  into  the  hall  open,  and 
entered.  No  one  seemed  to  be  about;  but  the  lights 
were  burning.  He  went  on  into  the  den.  There  was 
my  father " 


THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER  n 

She  stopped,  and  could  not  go  on  at  all  for  sev 
eral  minutes. 

"And  Mr.  Lockwood,  who  is  he?"  asked  Craig 
gently. 

"  My  father  and  I,  we  have  been  in  this  country 
only  a  short  time,"  she  replied,  trying  to  speak  in 
good  English  in  spite  of  her  emotion,  "  with  his 
partner  in  a — a  mining  venture — Mr.  Lockwood." 

She  paused  again  and  hesitated,  as  though  in  this 
strange  land  of  the  north  she  had  no  idea  of  which 
way  to  turn  for  help.  But  once  started,  now,  she  did 
not  stop  again. 

"  Oh,"  she  went  on  passionately,  u  I  don't  know 
what  it  was  that  came  over  my  father.  But  lately 
he  had  been  a  changed  man.  Sometimes  I  thought 
he  was — what  you  call — mad.  I  should  have  gone 
to  see  a  doctor  about  him,"  she  added  wildly,  her 
feelings  getting  the  better  of  her.  "  But  it  is  no 
longer  a  case  for  a  doctor.  It  is  a  case  for  a  de 
tective — for  some  one  who  is  more  than  a  detective. 
You  cannot  bring  him  back,  but 

She  could  not  go  on.  Yet  her  broken  sentence 
spoke  volumes,  in  her  pleading,  soft,  musical  voice, 
which  was  far  more  pleasing  to  the  ear  than  that  of 
the  usual  Latin-American. 

I  had  heard  that  the  women  of  Lima  were  famed 
for  their  beauty  and  melodious  voices.  Senorita  Inez 
surely  upheld  their  reputation. 

There  was  an  appealing  look  now  in  her  soft 
deep-brown  eyes,  and  her  thin,  delicate  lips  trembled 
as  she  hurried  on  with  her  strange  story. 


12  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  I  never  saw  my  father  in  such  a  state  before," 
she  murmured.  "  For  days  all  he  had  talked  about 
was  the  '  big  fish,'  the  peje  grande,  whatever  that 
might  mean — and  the  curse  of  Mansiche." 

The  recollection  of  the  past  few  days  seemed  to  be 
too  much  for  her.  Almost  before  we  knew  it,  be 
fore  Norton,  who  had  started  to  ask  her  a  question, 
could  speak,  she  excused  herself  and  fled  from  the 
room,  leaving  only  the  indelible  impression  of  love 
liness  and  the  appeal  for  help  that  was  irresistible. 

Kennedy  turned  to  Norton.  But  just  then  the 
door  to  the  den  opened  and  we  saw  our  friend  Dr. 
Leslie.  He  saw  us,  too,  and  took  a  few  steps  in 
our  direction. 

"  What — you  here,  Kennedy?  "  he  greeted  in  sur 
prise  as  Craig  shook  hands  and  introduced  Norton. 
"  And  Jameson,  too?  Well,  I  think  you've  found  a 
case  at  last  that  will  baffle  you." 

As  we  talked  he  led  the  way  across  the  living  room 
and  into  the  den  from  which  he  had  just  come. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  he  said,  telling  at  once  all 
that  he  had  been  able  to  discover.  "  Senor  Men- 
doza  was  discovered  here  about  midnight  last  night 
by  his  partner,  Mr.  Lockwood.  There  seem  to  be 
no  clues  to  how  or  by  whom  he  was  murdered.  No 
locks  had  been  broken.  I  have  examined  the  hall- 
boy  who  was  here  last  night.  He  seems  to  be  off 
his  post  a  good  deal  when  it  is  late.  He  saw  Mr. 
Lockwood  come  in,  and  took  him  in  the  elevator  up 
to  the  sixth  floor.  After  that  we  can  find  nothing 
but  the  open  door  into  the  apartment.  It  is  not  at 


THE  PERUVIAN  DAGGER  13 

all  impossible  that  some  one  might  have  come 
in  when  the  boy  was  off  his  post,  have  walked  up, 
even  have  walked  down,  the  stairs  again.  In  fact, 
it  must  have  been  that  way.  No  windows,  not  even 
on  the  fire-escape,  have  been  tampered  with.  In 
fact,  the  murder  must  have  been  done  by  some  one 
admitted  to  the  apartment  late  by  Mendoza  him 
self." 

We  walked  over  to  the  couch  on  which  lay  the 
body  covered  by  a  sheet.  Dr.  Leslie  drew  down  the 
sheet. 

On  the  face  was  a  most  awful  look,  a  terrible 
stare  and  contortion  of  the  features,  and  a  deep, 
almost  purple,  discoloration.  The  muscles  were  all 
tense  and  rigid.  I  shall  never  forget  that  face  and 
its  look,  half  of  pain,  half  of  fear,  as  if  of  some 
thing  nameless. 

Mendoza  had  been  a  heavy-set  man,  whose  pierc 
ing  black  eyes  beetled  forth,  in  life,  from  under 
bushy  brows.  Even  in  death,  barring  that  horrible 
look,  he  was  rather  distinguished-looking,  and  his 
close-cropped  hair  and  moustache  set  him  off  as  a 
man  of  affairs  and  consequence  in  his  own  country. 

"  Most  peculiar,  Kennedy,"  reiterated  Dr.  Leslie, 
pointing  to  the  breast.  "You  see  that  wound?  I 
can't  quite  determine  whether  that  was  the  real 
cause  of  death  or  not.  Of  course,  it's  a  bad  wound, 
it's  true.  But  there  seems  to  be  something  else  here, 
too.  Look  at  the  pupils  of  his  eyes,  how  contracted 
they  are.  The  lungs  seem  congested,  too.  He  has 
all  the  marks  of  having  been  asphyxiated.  Yet  there 


14  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

are  no  indications  on  his  throat  of  violence  such  as 
would  be  necessary  if  that  were  the  case.  There 
could  have  been  no  such  thing  as  illuminating  gas, 
nor  have  we  found  any  trace  of  any  receptacles 
which  might  have  held  poison.  I  can't  seem  to  make 
it  out." 

Kennedy  bent  over  the  body  and  looked  at  it  at 
tentively  for  several  minutes,  while  we  stood  back 
of  him,  scarcely  uttering  a  word  in  the  presence  of 
this  terrible  thing. 

Deftly  Kennedy  managed  to  extract  a  few  drops 
of  blood  from  about  the  wound  and  transfer  them 
to  a  very  small  test-tube  which  he  carried  in  a  little 
emergency  pocket-case  in  order  to  preserve  material 
for  future  study. 

"You  say  the  dagger  was  triangular,  Norton?" 
he  asked  finally,  without  looking  up  from  his  minute 
examination. 

"  Yes,  with  another  blade  that  shot  out  auto 
matically  when  you  knew  the  secret  of  pressing  the 
hilt  in  a  certain  way.  The  outside  triangular  blade 
separated  into  three  to  allow  an  inner  blade  to 
shoot  out." 

Kennedy  had  risen  and,  as  Norton  described  the 
Inca  dagger,  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us 
keenly. 

"  That  blade  was  poisoned,"  he  concluded^quietly. 
"  We  have  a  clue  to  your  missing  dagger.  Mendoza 
was  murdered  by  it  I  " 


II 

THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE 

"  T  SHOULD  like  to  have  another  talk  with 
J.  Senorita  Inez,"  remarked  Kennedy,  a  few 
minutes  later,  as  with  Dr.  Leslie  and  Professor  Nor 
ton  we  turned  into  the  living  room  and  closed  the 
door  to  the  den. 

While  Norton  volunteered  to  send  one  of  the 
servants  in  to  see  whether  the  young  lady  was  able 
to  stand  the  strain  of  another  interview,  Dr.  Leslie 
received  a  hurry  call  to  another  case. 

"  You'll  let  me  know,  Kennedy,  if  you  discover 
anything?"  he  asked,  shaking  hands  with  us.  "I 
shall  keep  you  informed,  also,  from  my  end.  That 
poison  completely  baffles  me — so  far.  You  know, 
we  might  as  well  work  together." 

"  Assuredly,"  agreed  Craig,  as  the  coroner  left. 


one  word  for  me  and  two  for  himself.  I  can  do 
the  work;  he  wants  to  save  his  official  face.  He 
never  will  know  what  that  poison  was — until  I  tell 
him." 

Inez  had  by  this  time  so  far  recovered  her  com 
posure  that  she  was  able  to  meet  us  again  in  the 
living  room. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  have  to  trouble  you  again," 

15 


1 6  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

apologized  Kennedy,  "  but  if  I  am  to  get  anywhere  in 
this  case  I  must  have  the  facts." 

She  looked  at  him,  half-puzzled,  and,  I  fancied, 
half-frightened,  too.  "  Anything  I  can  tell  you — of 
course,  ask  me,"  she  said. 

"  Had  your  father  any  enemies  who  might  de 
sire  his  death?"  shot  out  Kennedy,  almost  without 
warning. 

"  No,"  she  answered  slowly,  still  watching  him 
carefully,  then  adding  hastily:  "Of  course,  you 
know,  no  one  who  tries  to  do  anything  is  absolutely 
without  enemies,  though." 

"  I  mean,"  repeated  Craig,  carefully  noting  a  cer 
tain  hesitation  in  her  tone,  "  was  there  any  one  who, 
for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  might  have  mur 
dered  him  in  a  way  peculiarly  likely  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  say,  with  a  dagger?" 

Inez  flashed  a  quick  glance  at  Kennedy,  as  if  to 
inquire  just  how  much  or  how  little  he  really  knew. 
I  got  the  impression  from  it,  at  least,  that  she  was 
holding  back  some  suspicion  for  a  reason  that  per 
haps  she  would  not  even  have  admitted  to  herself. 

I  saw  that  Norton  was  also  following  the  line  of 
Kennedy's  questioning  keenly,  though  he  said  noth 
ing. 

Before  Kennedy  could  take  up  the  lead  again,  her 
maid,  Juanita,  a  very  pretty  girl  of  Spanish  and 
Indian  descent,  entered  softly. 

"  Mr.  Lockwood,"  she  whispered,  but  not  so  low 
that  we  could  not  hear. 


THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE         17 

"  Won't  you  ask  him  to  come  in,  Nita?  "  she  re 
plied. 

A  moment  later  a  young  man  pushed  open  the 
door — a  tall,  clean-cut  young  fellow,  whose  face 
bore  the  tan  of  a  sun  much  stronger  than  any  about 
New  York.  As  I  took  his  appraisal,  I  found  him 
unmistakably  of  the  type  of  American  soldier  of 
fortune  who  has  been  carried  by  the  wander-spirit 
down  among  the  romantic  republics  to  the  south  of 
our  own. 

"  Professor  Kennedy,"  began  Sefiorita  Mendoza, 
presenting  us  all  in  turn,  "  let  me  introduce  Mr. 
Lockwood,  my  father's  partner  in  several  ventures 
which  brought  us  to  New  York." 

As  we  shook  hands  I  could  not  help  feeling  that 
the  young  mining  engineer,  for  such  he  proved  to 
be  by  ostensible  profession,  was  something  more  to 
her  than  a  mere  partner  in  her  father's  schemes. 

"  I  believe  I've  met  Professor  Norton,"  he  re 
marked,  as  they  shook  hands.  "  Perhaps  he  remem 
bers  when  we  were  in  Lima." 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Norton,  returning  the  pene 
trating  glance  in  kind.  "  Also  in  New  York,"  he 
added. 

Lockwood  turned  abruptly.  "  Are  you  quite  sure 
you  are  able  to  stand  the  strain  of  this  interview?  " 
he  asked  Inez  in  a  low  tone. 

Norton  glanced  at  Kennedy  and  raised  his  eye 
brows  just  the  fraction  of  an  inch,  as  if  to  call  at 
tention  to  the  neat  manner  in  which  Lockwood  had 
turned  the  subject. 


i8 

Inez  smiled  sadly.  "  I  must,"  she  said,  in  a  forced 
tone. 

I  fancied  that  Lockwood  noted  and  did  not  relish 
an  air  of  restraint  in  her  words. 

"  It  was  you,  I  believe,  Mr.  Lockwood,  who 
found  Senor  Mendoza  last  night?"  queried  Ken 
nedy,  as  if  to  read  the  answer  into  the  record,  al 
though  he  already  knew  it. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lockwood,  without  hesitation, 
though  with  a  glance  at  the  averted  head  of  Inez, 
and  choosing  his  words  very  carefully,  as  if  trying 
hard  not  to  say  more  than  she  could  bear.  "  Yes.  I 
came  up  here  to  report  on  some  financial  matters 
which  interested  both  of  us,  very  late,  perhaps  after 
midnight.  I  was  about  to  press  the  buzzer  on  the 
door  when  I  saw  that  the  door  was  slightly  ajar. 
I  opened  it  and  found  lights  still  burning.  The  rest 
I  think  you  must  already  know." 

Even  that  tactful  reference  to  the  tragedy  was  too 
much  for  Inez.  She  suppressed  a  little  convulsive 
sob,  but  did  not,  this  time,  try  to  flee  from  the  room. 

"  You  saw  nothing  about  the  den  that  aroused  any 
suspicions?"  pursued  Kennedy.  "  No  bottle,  no 
glass?  There  wasn't  the  odour  of  any  gas  or 
drug?" 

Lockwood  shook  his  head  slowly,  fixing  his  eyes 
on  Kennedy's  face,  but  not  looking  at  him.  "  No," 
he  answered;  *'  I  have  told  Dr.  Leslie  just  what  I 
found.  If  there  had  been  anything  else  I'm  sure 
I  would  have  noticed  it  while  I  was  waiting  for  Miss 
Inez  to  come  in." 


THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE         19 

His  answers  seemed  perfectly  frank  and  straight 
forward.  Yet  somehow  I  could  not  get  over  the 
feeling  that  he,  as  well  as  Inez,  was  not  telling  quite 
all  he  knew — perhaps  not  about  the  murder,  but 
about  matters  that  might  be  related  to  it. 

Norton  evidently  felt  the  same  way.  "  You  saw 
no  weapon — a  dagger?  "  he  interrupted  suddenly. 

The  young  man  faced  Norton  squarely.  To  me  it 
seemed  as  if  he  had  been  expecting  the  question. 
"  Not  a  thing,"  he  said  deliberately.  *'  I  looked 
about  carefully,  too.  Whatever  weapon  was  used 
must  have  been  taken  away  by  the  murderer,"  he 
added. 

Juanita  entered  again,  and  Inez  excused  herself 
to  answer  the  telephone,  while  we  stood  in  the  living 
room  chatting  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  What  is  this  '  curse  of  Mansiche '  which  the 
Sefiorita  has  mentioned?"  asked  Kennedy,  seeing  a 
chance  to  open  a  new  line  of  inquiry  with  Lock- 
wood. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  returned,  impatiently 
flicking  the  ashes  of  a  cigarette  which  he  had  lighted 
the  moment  Inez  left  the  room,  as  though  such 
stories  had  no  interest  for  the  practical  mind  of  an 
engineer.  "  Some  old  superstition,  I  suppose." 

Lockwood  seemed  to  regard  Norton  with  a  sort 
of  aversion,  if  not  hostility,  and  I  fancied  that  Nor 
ton,  on  his  part,  neglected  no  opportunity  to  let  the 
other  know  that  he  was  watching  him. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  the  story,"  resumed 
Lockwood  a  moment  later  as  no  one  said  anything. 


20  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  But  I  do  know  that  there  is  treasure  in  that  great 
old  Chimu  mound  near  Truxillo.  Don  Luis  has 
the  government  concession  to  bore  into  the  mound, 
too,  and  we  are  raising  the  capital  to  carry  the 
scheme  through  to  success." 

He  had  come  to  the  end  of  a  sentence.  Yet  the 
inflection  of  his  voice  showed  plainly  that  it  was 
not  the  end  of  the  idea  that  had  been  in  his  mind. 

"  If  you  knew  where  to  dig,"  suddenly  supplied 
Norton,  gazing  keenly  into  the  eyes  of  the  soldier 
of  fortune. 

Lockwood  did  not  answer,  though  it  was  evident 
that  that  had  been  the  thought  unexpressed  in  his 
remarks. 

The  return  of  the  Senorita  to  the  room  seemed  to 
break  the  tension. 

"  It  was  the  house  telephone,"  she  said,  in  a  quiet 
voice.  "  The  hall-boy  didn't  know  whether  to  admit 
a  visitor  who  comes  with  his  sympathy."  Then  she 
turned  from  us  to  Lockwood.  "  You  must  know 
him,"  she  said,  somewhat  embarrassed.  "  Sefior  Al 
fonso  de  Moche." 

Lockwood  suppressed  a  frown,  but  said  nothing, 
for,  a  moment  later,  a  young  man  came  in.  Almost 
in  silence  he  advanced  to  Inez  and  took  her  hand  in 
a  manner  that  plainly  showed  his  sympathy  in  her 
bereavement. 

"  I  have  just  heard,"  he  said  simply,  "  and  I  has 
tened  around  to  tell  you  how  much  I  feel  your  loss. 
If  there  is  anything  I  can  do " 

He  stopped,  and  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  It 
was  unnecessary.  His  eyes  finished  it  for  him. 


THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE         21 

Alfonso  de  Moche  was,  I  thought,  a  very  hand 
some  fellow,  though  not  of  the  Spanish  type  at  all. 
His  forehead  was  high,  with  a  shock  of  straight 
black  hair,  his  skin  rather  copper-coloured,  nose 
slightly  aquiline,  chin  and  mouth  firm;  in  fact,  the 
whole  face  was  refined  and  intellectual,  though 
tinged  with  melancholy. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  murmured,  then  turned  to  us. 
u  I  believe  you  are  acquainted  with  Mr.  de  Moche, 
Professor  Norton?"  she  asked.  "You  know  he  is 
taking  post-graduate  work  at  the  University." 

"  Slightly,"  returned  Norton,  gazing  at  the  young 
man  in  a  manner  that  plainly  disconcerted  him.  "  I 
believe  I  have  met  his  mother  in  Peru." 

Senorita  Mendoza  seemed  to  colour  at  the  men 
tion  of  Senora  de  Moche.  It  flashed  over  me  that, 
in  his  greeting  Alfonso  had  said  nothing  of  his 
mother.  I  wondered  if  there  might  be  a  reason  for 
it.  Could  it  be  that  Senorita  Mendoza  had  some 
antipathy  which  did  not  include  the  son?  Though 
we  did  not  seem  to  be  making  much  progress  in  this 
way  in  solving  the  mystery,  still  I  felt  that  before 
we  could  go  ahead  we  must  know  the  little  group 
about  which  it  centred.  There  seemed  to  be  cur 
rents  and  cross-currents  here  which  we  did  not  un 
derstand,  but  which  must  be  charted  if  we  were  to 
steer  a  straight  course. 

"^nd  Professor  Kennedy?"  she  added,  turning 
to  us. 

"  I  think  I  have  seen  Mr.  de  Moche  about  the 
campus,"  said  Craig,  as  I,  too,  shook  hands  with 
him,  "  although  you  are  not  in  any  of  my  classes." 


22  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  No,  Professor,"  concurred  the  young  man,  who 
was,  however,  considerably  older  than  the  average 
student  taking  courses  like  his. 

I  found  it  quite  enough  to  watch  the  faces  of 
those  about  me  just  then.  Between  Lockwood  and 
de  Moche  it  seemed  that  there  existed  a  latent  hos 
tility.  The  two  eyed  each  other  with  decided  dis 
favour.  As  for  Norton,  he  seemed  to  be  alternately 
watching  each  of  them. 

An  awkward  silence  followed,  and  de  Moche 
seemed  to  take  the  cue,  for  after  a  few  more  re 
marks  to  Inez  he  withdrew  as  gracefully  as  he  could, 
with  a  parting  interchange  of  frigid  formalities  with 
Lockwood.  It  did  not  take  much  of  a  detective  to 
deduce  that  both  of  the  young  men  might  have 
agreed  on  one  thing,  though  that  caused  the  most 
serious  of  differences  between  them — their  estima 
tion  of  Inez  de  Mendoza. 

Inez,  on  her  part,  seemed  also  to  be  visibly  re 
lieved  at  his  departure,  though  she  had  been  cordial 
enough  to  him.  I  wondered  what  it  all  meant. 

Lockwood,  too,  seemed  to  be  ill  at  ease  still.  But 
it  was  a  different  uneasiness,  rather  directed  at  Nor 
ton  than  at  us.  Once  before  I  had  thought  he  was 
on  the  point  of  excusing  himself,  but  the  entrance  of 
de  Moche  seemed  to  have  decided  him  to  stay  at 
least  as  long  as  his  rival. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Senorita,"  he  now  apolo 
gized,  "  but  I  really  must  go.  There  are  still  some 
.affairs  which  I  must  attend  to  in  order  to  protect 


THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE         23 

the  interests  we  represent."  He  turned  to  us.  "  You 
will  excuse  me,  I  know,"  he  added,  "  but  I  have  a 
very  important  appointment.  You  know  Don  Luis 
and  I  were  assisting  in  organizing  the  campaign  of 
Stuart  Whitney  to  interest  American  manufacturers, 
and  particularly  bankers,  in  the  chances  in  South 
America  which  lie  at  hand,  if  we  are  only  awake  to 
take  advantage  of  them.  I  shall  be  at  your  service, 
Sefiorita,  as  soon  as  the  meeting  is  over.  I  presume 
I  shall  see  you  again?  "  he  nodded  to  Kennedy. 

"  Quite  likely,"  returned  Kennedy  drily. 

"  If  there  is  any  assistance  I  can  render  in  clear 
ing  up  this  dreadful  thing,"  went  on  Lockwood,  in  a 
lower  tone  to  us,  "  you  may  count  on  me  absolutely." 

;<  Thank  you,"  returned  Craig,  with  a  significant 
glance.  "  I  may  have  to  take  up  that  offer." 

"  Do  so,  by  all  means,"  he  reiterated,  bowing  to 
Norton  and  backing  out  of  the  door. 

Alone  again  with  Inez  Mendoza,  Kennedy  turned 
suddenly.  "Who  is  this  Senor  de  Moche?"  he 
asked.  "  I  gather  that  you  must  have  known  him  in 
Peru." 

"Yes,"  she  agreed.  "I  knew  him  in  Lima"; 
then  adding,  as  if  by  way  of  confession,  "  when  he 
was  a  student  at  the  University." 

There  was  something  in  both  her  tone  and  man 
ner  that  would  lead  one  to  believe  that  she  had  only 
the  kindliest  feelings  toward  de  Moche,  whatever 
might  be  the  case,  as  it  seemed,  with  his  mother. 

For  a  moment  Kennedy  now  advanced  and  took 
Senorita  Inez  by  the  hand.  "  I  must  go  now,"  he 


24  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

said  simply.  "If  there  is  anything  which  you  have 
not  told  me,  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  No — nothing,"  she  answered. 

He  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  hers.  "If  you 
should  recall  anything  else,"  he  persisted,  "  don't 
hesitate  to  tell  me.  I  will  come  here,  or  you  may 
come  to  the  laboratory,  whichever  is  more  con 
venient." 

"  I  shall  do  so,"  she  replied.  "  And  thank  you 
a  thousand  times  for  the  trouble  you  are  going  to  in 
my  behalf.  You  may  be  sure  that  I  appreciate  it." 

Norton  also  bade  her  farewell,  and  she  thanked 
him  for  having  brought  us  over.  I  noticed  also  that 
Norton,  though  considerably  older  than  any  of  us, 
had  apparently  succumbed  to  the  spell  of  her  won 
derful  eyes  and  face. 

"  I  also  would  be  glad  to  help  you,"  he  prom 
ised.  "  You  can  usually  find  me  at  the  Museum." 

"  Thank  you  all,"  she  murmured.  "  You  are  all 
so  kind  to  me.  An  hour  ago  I  felt  that  I  had  not  a 
friend  in  all  this  big  city — except  Mr.  Lockwood. 
Now  I  feel  that  I  am  not  quite  all  alone." 

She  said  it  to  Norton,  but  it  was  really  meant 
for  Kennedy.  I  know  Craig  shared  my  own  feel 
ings.  It  was  a  rare  pleasure  to  work  for  her.  She 
seemed  most  appreciative  of  anything  that  was  done 
for  her  in  her  defenceless  position. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  apartment  house  and 
sought  our  cab  again,  Kennedy  was  the  first  to  speak, 
and  to  Norton. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  more  about  these  men, 


THE  SOLDIER  OF  FORTUNE         25 

Lockwood  and  de  Moche?  "  he  queried,  as  we  sped 
uptown. 

"  I  don't  know  a  thing,"  he  replied  cautiously. 
"  I — I'd  much  prefer  not  to  talk  of  suspicions." 

"  But  the  dagger,"  insisted  Kennedy.  "  Have  you 
no  suspicions  of  what  became  of  it  and  who  took  it?  " 

"  I'd  prefer  not  to  talk  of  mere  suspicions,"  he 
repeated. 

Little  was  said  as  we  turned  in  at  the  campus  and 
at  last  drew  up  before  Norton's  wing  of  the  Mu 
seum. 

'  You  will  let  me  know  of  any  development,  no 
matter  how  trivial?  "  asked  Kennedy,  as  we  parted. 
"  Your  dagger  seems  to  have  stirred  up  more  trou 
ble  than  there  was  any  reason  to  suppose  when  you 
came  to  me  first." 

"  I  should  say  so,"  he  agreed.  "  I  don't  know 
how  to  repay  the  interest  you  have  shown  in  its  re 
covery.  If  anything  else  materializes,  I  shall  surely 
get  word  to  you  immediately." 

As  we  turned  to  leave,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
of  the  manner  of  Lockwood  and  Norton  toward  each 
other.  The  name  Stuart  Whitney  ran  through  my 
head.  Stuart  Whitney  was  a  trustee  of  the  Uni 
versity  who  had  contributed  heavily,  among  other 
things,  to  Norton's  various  expeditions  to  South 
America.  Was  it  that  Norton  felt  a  peculiar  loyalty 
to  Whitney,  or  was  he  jealous  that  any  one  else 
should  succeed  in  interesting  his  patron  in  things 
South  American? 

The  actions  of  the  two  young  men,  Lockwood  and 


26  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

de  Moche,  recurred  to  me.  "  Well,"  I  remarked,  as 
we  walked  along,  "  what  do  you  think  it  is — a  ro 
mance  or  a  simple  crime-hunt?" 

"  Both,   I   suspect,"   replied   Craig  abstractedly. 
"  Only  not  simple." 


Ill 

THE  ARCHAEOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE 

"  T  THINK  I'll  go  into  the  University  Library,"1 
Craig  remarked,  as  we  left  Norton  before  his 
building.  "  I  want  to  refresh  my  mind  on  some  of 
those  old  Peruvian  antiquities  and  traditions.  What 
the  Senorita  hinted  at  may  prove  to  be  very  impor 
tant.  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  turn  in  a  story  to 
the  Star  soon?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed,  "  I'll  have  to  turn  in  something, 
although  I'd  prefer  to  wait." 

"  Try  to  get  an  assignment  to  follow  the  case  to 
the  end,"  suggested  Craig.  "  I  think  you'll  find  it 
worth  while.  Anyhow,  this  will  give  you  a  chance 
for  a  breathing  space,  and,  if  I  have  this  thing  doped 
out  right,  you  won't  get  another  for  some  time.  I'll 
meet  you  over  in  the  laboratory  in  a  couple  of 
hours." 

Craig  hurried  up  the  long  flight  of  white-marble 
steps  to  the  library  and  disappeared,  while  I  jumped 
on  the  subway  and  ran  downtown  to  the  office. 

It  took  me,  as  I  knew  it  would,  considerably  over 
a  couple  of  hours  to  clear  things  up  at  the  Star,  so 
that  I  could  take  advantage  of  a  special  arrange 
ment  which  I  had  made,  so  that  I  could,  when  a 
case  warranted  it,  co-operate  with  Kennedy.  My 

27 


28  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

story  was  necessarily  brief,  but  that  was  what  I 
wanted  just  now.  I  did  not  propose  to  have  the 
whole  field  of  special-feature  writers  camping  on  my 
preserve. 

Uptown  I  hurried  again,  afraid  that  Kennedy  had 
finished  and  might  have  been  called  away.  But  when 
I  reached  the  laboratory  he  was  not  there,  and  I 
found  that  he  had  not  been.  Up  and  down  I  paced 
restlessly.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  wait. 
If  he  was  unable  to  keep  his  appointment  here  with 
me,  I  knew  that  he  would  soon  telephone.  What 
was  it,  I  wondered,  that  kept  him  delving  into  the 
archaeological  lore  of  the  library? 

I  had  about  given  him  up,  when  he  hurried  into 
the  laboratory  in  a  high  state  of  excitement. 

"What  did  you  find?"  I  queried.  "Has  any 
thing  happened?" 

"  Let  me  tell  you  first  what  I  found  in  the  library," 
he  replied,  tilting  his  hat  back  on  his  head  and  alter 
nately  thrusting  and  withdrawing  his  fingers  in  his 
waistcoat  pockets,  as  if  in  some  way  that  might  help 
him  to  piece  together  some  scattered  fragments  of 
a  story  which  he  had  just  picked  up. 

"  I've  been  looking  up  that  hint  that  the  Senorita 
dropped  when  she  used  those  words  peje  grande, 
which  mean,  literally,  '  big  fish,' '  he  resumed. 
"  Walter,  it  fires  the  imagination.  You  have  read 
of  the  wealth  that  Pizarro  found  in  Peru,  of 
course." 

Visions  of  Prescott  flashed  through  my  mind  as 
he  spoke. 


THE  ARCHAEOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE      29 

"  Well,  where  are  the  gold  and  silver  of  the  con- 
quistadores?  Gone  to  the  melting-pot,  centuries 
ago.  But  is  there  none  left?  The  Indians  in  Peru 
believe  so,  at  any  rate.  And,  Walter,  there  are  per 
sons  who  would  stop  at  nothing  to  get  at  the  secret. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  history  that  soon  after  the  con 
quest  a  vast  fortune  was  unearthed  of  which  the 
King  of  Spain's  fifth  amounted  to  five  million  dol 
lars.  That  treasure  was  known  as  the  peje  chica — 
the  little  fish.  One  version  of  the  story  tells  that  an 
Inca  ruler,  the  great  Cacique  Mansiche,  had  ob 
served  with  particular  attention  the  kindness  of  a 
young  Spaniard  toward  the  people  of  the  conquered 
race.  Also,  he  had  observed  that  the  man  was  com 
paratively  poor.  At  any  rate,  he  revealed  the  secret 
of  the  hiding-place  of  the  peje  chica,  on  condition 
that  a  part  of  the  wealth  should  be  used  to  advance 
the  interests  of  the  Indians. 

"  The  most  valuable  article  discovered  was  in  the 
form  of  a  fish  of  solid  gold  and  so  large  that  the 
Spaniards  considered  it  a  rare  prize.  But  the 
Cacique  assured  his  young  friend  that  it  was  only 
the  little  fish,  that  a  much  greater  treasure  existed, 
worth  many  times  the  value  of  this  one. 

'  The  sequel  of  the  story  is  that  the  Spaniard  for 
got  his  promise,  went  off  to  Spain,  and  spent  all  his 
gold.  He  was  returning  for  the  peje  grande,  of 
which  he  had  made  great  boasts,  but  before  he 
could  get  it  he  was  killed.  Prescott,  I  believe,  gives 
another  version,  in  which  he  says  that  the  Spaniard 
devoted  a  large  part  of  his  wealth  to  the  relief  of 


30  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

the  Indians  and  gave  large  sums  to  the  Peruvian 
churches.  Other  stories  deny  that  it  was  Mansiche 
who  told  the  first  secret,  but  that  it  was  another  In 
dian.  One  may,  I  suppose,  pay  his  money  and  take 
his  choice.  But  the  point,  as  far  as  we  are  con 
cerned  in  this  case,  is  that  there  is  still  believed  to 
be  the  great  fish,  which  no  one  has  found.  Who 
knows  ?  Perhaps,  somehow,  Mendoza  had  the  secret 
of  the  peje  grande?" 

Kennedy  paused,  and  I  could  feel  the  tense  in 
terest  with  which  his  delving  into  the  crumbling  past 
had  now  endowed  this  already  fascinating  case. 

"  And  the  curse  ?  "  I  put  in. 

"  About  that  we  do  not  know,"  he  replied.  "  Ex 
cept  that  we  do  know  that  Mansiche  was  the  great 
Cacique  or  ruler  of  northern  Peru.  The  natives  are 
believed  to  have  buried  a  far  greater  treasure  than 
even  that  which  the  Spaniards  carried  off.  Man 
siche  is  said  to  have  left  a  curse  on  any  native  who 
ever  divulged  the  whereabouts  of  the  treasure,  and 
the  curse  was  also  to  fall  on  any  Spaniard  who 
might  discover  it.  That  is  all  we  know — yet.  Gold 
was  used  lavishly  in  the  temples.  That  great  hoard 
is  really  the  Gold  of  the  Gods.  Surely,  as  we  have 
seen  it  so  far  in  this  case,  it  must  be  cursed." 

There  was  a  knock  on  the  laboratory  door,  and  I 
sprang  to  open  it,  expecting  to  find  that  it  was  some 
thing  for  Kennedy.  Instead  there  stood  one  of  the 
office  boys  of  the  Star. 

"  Why,  hello,  Tommy,"  I  greeted  him.  "  What 
seems  to  be  the  matter  now?" 


"  A  letter  for  you,  Mr.  Jameson,"  he  replied, 
handing  over  a  plain  envelope.  "  It  came  just  after 
you  left.  The  Boss  thought  it  might  be  important — 
something  about  that  story,  I  guess.  Anyhow,  he 
told  me  to  take  it  up  to  you  on  my  way  home,  sir." 

I  looked  at  it  again.  It  bore  simply  my  name 
and  the  address  of  the  Star,  not  written,  but,  strange 
to  say,  printed  in  ungainly,  rough  characters,  as 
though  some  one  were  either  not  familiar  with  writ 
ing  English  or  desired  to  conceal  his  handwriting. 

"Where  did  it  come  from — and  how?"  I  asked, 
as  I  tore  the  envelope  open. 

"  I  don't  know  where,  sir,"  replied  Tommy.  u  A 
boy  brought  it.  Said  a  man  uptown  gave  him  a 
quarter  to  deliver  it  to  you." 

I  looked  at  the  contents  in  blank  amazement. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  letter  except  a  quarter  sheet 
of  ordinary  size  note  paper  such  as  that  used  in 
typewritten  correspondence. 

Printed  on  it,  in  characters  exactly  like  those  on 
the  outside  of  the  envelope,  were  the  startling 
words : 

"  BEWARE  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE  ON  THE 
GOLD  OF  THE  GODS." 

Underneath  this  inscription  appeared  the  rude 
drawing  of  a  dagger  in  which  some  effort  had  evi 
dently  been  made  to  make  it  appear  three-sided. 

"  Well,  of  all  things,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  " 
I  cried,  tossing  the  thing  over  to  Kennedy. 

He  took  it  and  read  it;  his  face  puckered  deeply. 

"  I'm  not  surprised,"  he  said,  a  moment  later, 


32  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

looking  up.  "  Do  you  know,  I  was  just  about  to  tell 
you  what  happened  at  the  library.  I  had  a  feeling 
all  the  time  I  was  there  of  being  watched.  I  don't 
know  why  or  how,  but,  somehow,  I  felt  that  some 
one  was  interested  in  the  books  I  was  reading.  It 
made  me  uncomfortable.  I  was  late,  anyhow,  and 
I  decided  not  to  give  them  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
me  any  more — at  least  in  the  library.  So  I  have  had 
a  number  of  the  books  on  Peru  which  I  wanted  re 
served,  and  they'll  be  sent  over  later,  here.  No, 
I'm  not  surprised  that  you  received  this.  Would 
you  remember  the  boy?  "  he  asked  of  Tommy. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  Tommy.  "  He  didn't  have 
on  a  uniform,  though.  It  wasn't  a  messenger." 

There  was  no  use  to  question  him  further.  He 
had  evidently  told  all  that  he  knew,  and  finally  we 
had  to  let  him  go,  with  a  parting  injunction  to  keep 
his  eyes  open  and  his  mouth  shut. 

Kennedy  continued  to  study  the  note  on  the  quar 
ter  sheet  of  paper  long  after  the  boy  had  gone. 

"  You  know,"  he  remarked  thoughtfully,  after  a 
while,  "  as  nearly  as  I  can  make  the  thing  out  with 
the  slender  information  that  we  have  so  far,  the 
weirdest  superstitions  seem  to  cluster  about  that  dag 
ger  which  Norton  lost.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  it 
took  us  far  back  into  the  dim  past  of  the  barbaric 
splendour  of  the  lost  Inca  civilization  of  Peru." 

He  waved  the  sheet  of  paper  for  emphasis.  '  You 
see,  some  one  has  used  it  here  as  a  sign  of  terror. 
Perhaps  somehow  it  bore  the  secret  of  the  big  fish — 
who  knows?  None  of  the  writers  and  explorers 
have  ever  found  it.  The  most  they  can  say  is  that 


THE  ARCHAEOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE      33 

it  may  be  handed  down  from  father  to  son  through  a 
long  line.  At  any  rate,  the  secret  of  the  hiding- 
place  seems  to  have  been  safely  kept.  No  one  has 
ever  found  the  treasure.  It  would  be  strange, 
wouldn't  it,  if  it  remained  for  some  twentieth-century 
civilized  man  to  unearth  the  thing  and  start  again 
the  curse  that  historians  say  was  uttered  and  seems 
always  to  have  followed  the  thing?  " 

"  Kennedy,  this  affair  is  getting  on  my  nerves  al 
ready." 

While  Craig  was  speaking  the  door  of  the  labora 
tory  had  opened  without  our  hearing  it,  and  there 
stood  Norton  again.  He  had  waited  until  Craig  had 
finished  before  he  had  spoken. 

We  looked  at  him,  startled,  ourselves. 

"  I  had  some  work  to  do  after  I  left  you,"  went 
on  Norton,  without  stopping.  "  In  my  letter-box 
were  several  letters,  but  I  forgot  to  look  at  them 
until  just  now,  when  I  was  leaving.  Then  I  picked 
them  up — and — look  at  this  thing  that  was  among 
them." 

Norton  laid  down  on  the  laboratory  table  a  plain 
envelope  and  a  quarter  sheet  of  paper  on  which 
were  printed,  except  for  his  own  name  instead  of 
mine,  an  almost  exact  replica  of  the  note  which  I 
had  received. 

"  BEWARE  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE  ON  THE 
GOLD  OF  THE  GODS." 

Kennedy  and  I  looked  at  him.  Already,  evidently, 
he  had  seen  that  Kennedy  held  in  his  hand  the  note 
that  had  come  to  me. 

"  I  can't  make  anything  out  of  it,"  went  on  Nor- 


34  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

ton,  evidently  much  worried.  "  First  I  lose  the  dag 
ger.  Next  you  say  it  was  used  to  murder  Mendoza. 
Then  I  get  this.  Now,  if  any  one  can  get  into  the 
Museum  to  steal  the  dagger,  they  could  get  in  to 
carry  out  any  threat  of  revenge,  real  or  fancied." 

Looked  at  in  that  respect,  I  felt  that  it  was  indeed 
a  real  cause  of  worry  for  Norton.  But,  then,  it 
flashed  over  me,  was  not  my  own  case  worse?  I 
was  to  be  responsible  for  telling  the  story.  Might 
not  some  unseen  hand  strike  at  me,  perhaps  sooner 
than  at  him  ? 

Kennedy  had  taken  the  two  notes  and  was  scan 
ning  them  eagerly. 

Just  then  an  automobile  drew  up  outside,  and  a 
moment  later  we  heard  a  tap  at  the  door  which  Ken 
nedy  had  closed  after  the  entrance  of  Norton.  I 
opened  it. 

"Is  Professor  Kennedy  here?"  I  heard  a  voice 
inquire.  "  I'm  one  of  the  orderlies  at  the  City  Hos 
pital,  next  to  the  Morgue,  where  Dr.  Leslie  has  his 
laboratory.  I've  a  message  for  Profesor  Kennedy, 
if  he's  in." 

Kennedy  took  the  envelope,  which  bore  the  stamp 
of  Dr.  Leslie's  department,  and  tore  it  open. 

u  My  dear  Kennedy,"  he  read,  in  an  undertone. 
"  I've  been  engaged  in  investigating  that  poison 
which  probably  surrounds  the  wound  in  the  Men 
doza  case,  but  as  yet  have  nothing  to  report.  It  is 
certainly  none  of  the  things  which  we  ordinarily  run 
up  against.  Enclosed  you  will  find  a  slip  of  paper 
and  the  envelope  which  it  came  in — something,  I 


THE  ARCHAEOLOGICAL  DETECTIVE      35 

take  it,  that  has  been  sent  me  by  a  crank.  Would 
you  treat  it  seriously  or  disregard  it?  Leslie." 

As  Kennedy  had  unfolded  Leslie's  own  letter  a 
piece  of  paper  had  fluttered  to  the  floor.  I  picked 
it  up  mechanically,  and  only  now  looked  at  it,  as 
Craig  finished  reading. 

On  it  was  another  copy  of  the  threat  that  had 
been  sent  to  both  Norton  and  myself! 

The  hospital  orderly  had  scarcely  gone  when  an 
other  tap  came  at  the  door. 

"  Your  books  from  the  library,  Professor,"  an 
nounced  a  student  who  was  employed  in  the  library 
as  part  payment  of  his  tuition.  "  I've  signed  the 
slip  for  them,  sir." 

He  deposited  the  books  on  a  desk,  a  huge  pile 
of  them,  which  reached  from  his  outstretched  arms 
to  his  chin.  As  he  did  so  the  pressure  of  his  arms 
released  the  pile  of  books  and  the  column  collapsed. 

From  a  book  entitled  "  New  and  Old  Peru,"  which 
fell  with  the  pile,  slipped  a  plain  white  envelope. 
Kennedy  saw  it  before  either  of  us,  and  seized  it. 

"  Here's  one  for  me,"  he  said,  tearing  it  open. 

Sure  enough,  in  the  same  rude  printing  on  a  quar 
ter  sheet  were  the  words : 

"  BEWARE  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE  ON  THE 
GOLD  OF  THE  GODS." 

We  could  only  stare  at  each  other  and  at  that  tell 
tale  sign  of  the  Inca  dagger  underneath. 

What  did  it  mean?    Who  had  sent  the  warnings? 

Kennedy  alone  seemed  to  regard  the  affair  as  if 
with  purely  scientific  interest.  He  took  the  four 


36  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

pieces  of  paper  and  laid  them  down  before  him  on 
the  table.  Then  he  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  They  match  perfectly,"  he  said  quietly,  gather 
ing  them  up  and  placing  them  in  a  wallet  which  he 
carried.  "  All  the  indentures  of  the  tearing  corre 
spond.  Four  warnings  seem  to  have  been  sent  to 
those  who  are  likely  to  find  out  something  of  the 
secret." 

'  Norton  seemed  to  have  gained  somewhat  of  his 
composure  now  that  he  had  been  able  to  talk  to 
some  one. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do — give  it  up?"  he 
asked  tensely. 

"  Nothing  could  have  insured  my  sticking  to  it 
harder,"  answered  Craig  grimly. 

"  Then  we'll  all  have  to  stick  together,"  said  Nor 
ton  slowly.  "  We  all  seem  to  be  in  the  same  boat." 

As  he  rose  to  go  he  extended  a  hand  to  each  of  us. 

"  I'll  stick,"  repeated  Kennedy,  with  that  peculiar 
bulldog  look  of  intensity  on  his  face  which  I  had 
come  to  know  so  well. 


IV 
THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS 

NORTON  had  scarcely  gone,  and  Kennedy  was 
still  studying  the  four  pieces  of  paper  on 
which  the  warning  had  been  given,  when  our  labo 
ratory  door  was  softly  pushed  open  again. 

It  was  Senorita  Mendoza,  looking  more  beauti 
ful  than  ever  in  her  plain  black  mourning  dress,  the 
unnatural  pallor  of  her  face  heightening  the  won 
derful  lustrous  eyes  that  looked  about  as  though 
half  frightened  at  what  she  was  doing. 

"  I  hope  nothing  has  happened,"  greeted  Ken 
nedy,  placing  an  easy-chair  for  her.  "  But  I'm  glad 
to  see  that  you  have  confidence  enough  to  trust  me." 

She  looked  about  doubtfully  at  the  vast  amount 
of  paraphernalia  which  Craig  had  collected  in  his 
scientific  warfare  on  crime.  Though  she  did  not  un 
derstand  it,  it  seemed  to  impress  her. 

"  No,"  she  murmured,  "  nothing  new  has  hap 
pened.  You  told  me  to  call  on  you  if  I  should  think 
of  anything  else." 

She  said  it  with  an  air  as  if  confessing  something. 
It  was  apparent  that,  whatever  it  was,  she  had  known 
it  all  the  time  and  only  after  a  struggle  had  brought 
herself  to  telling  it. 

"Then  you  have  thought  of  something?" 
prompted  Craig. 

37 


3 8  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  in  a  low  tone.  Then  with  an 
effort  she  went  on :  "I  don't  know  whether  you 
know  it  or  not,  but  my  family  is  an  old  one,  one  of 
the  oldest  in  Peru." 

Kennedy  nodded  encouragingly. 

"  Back  in  the  old  days,  after  Pizarro,"  she  hurried 
on,  no  longer  able  to  choose  her  words,  but  blurting 
the  thing  out  directly,  "  an  ancestor  of  mine  was 
murdered  by  an  Inca  dagger." 

She  stopped  again  and  looked  about,  actually 
frightened  at  her  own  temerity,  evidently.  Ken 
nedy  and  his  twentieth-century  surroundings  seemed 
again  to  reassure  her. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  the  story,"  she  resumed.  "  I 
don't  know  it.  My  father  knew  it.  But  it  was  some 
kind  of  family  secret,  for  he  never  told  me.  Once 
when  I  asked  him  he  put  me  off ;  told  me  to  wait  until 
I  was  a  little  older." 

"  And  you  think  that  may  have  something  to  do 
with  the  case  ?  "  asked  Kennedy,  trying  to  draw  out 
anything  more  that  she  knew. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  frankly.  "  But 
don't  you  think  that  it  is  strange — an  ancestor  of 
mine  murdered  and  now,  hundreds  of  years  after 
ward,  my  father,  the  last  of  his  line  in  direct  de 
scent,  murdered  in  the  same  way,  by  an  Inca  dagger 
that  has  disappeared?" 

"  Then  you  were  listening  while  I  was  talking 
to  Professor  Norton?"  shot  out  Kennedy,  not  un 
kindly,  but  rather  as  a  surprise  test  to  see  what  she 
would  say. 


THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS  39 

"  You  cannot  blame  me  for  that,"  she  returned 
simply. 

"  Hardly,"  smiled  Kennedy.  "  And  I  appreciate 
your  reticence — as  well  as  your  coming  here  finally 
to  tell  me.  Indeed,  it  is  strange.  Surely  you  must 
have  some  other  suspicions,"  he  persisted,  "  some 
thing  that  you  feel,  even  though  you  do  not  know?  " 

Kennedy  was  leaning  forward,  looking  deeply  into 
her  eyes,  as  if  he  would  read  what  was  passing  in 
her  mind.  She  met  his  gaze  for  a  moment,  then 
looked  away. 

"  You  heard  Mr.  Lockwood  say  that  he  had  be 
come  associated  with  a  Mr.  Whitney,  Mr.  Stuart 
Whitney,  down  in  Wall  Street?"  she  ventured. 

Kennedy  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her  face  as 
he  sought  to  extract  the  reluctant  words  from  her. 

"  Mr.  Whitney  has  been  largely  interested  in 
Peru,  in  business  and  in  mining,"  she  went  on  slowly. 
"  He  has  given  large  sums  to  scholars  down  there, 
to  Professor  Norton's  expeditions  from  New  York. 
I — I'm  afraid  of  that  Mr.  Whitney !  " 

Her  quiet  tone  had  risen  to  a  pitch  of  tremulous 
excitement.  Her  face,  which  had  been  pale  from 
the  strain  of  the  tragedy,  was  now  full  of  colour,  and 
her  breast  rose  and  fell  with  suppressed  emotion. 

"  Afraid  of  him — why?  "  asked  Kennedy. 

There  was  no  more  reticence.  Once  having  said 
so  much,  she  seemed  to  feel  that  she  must  go  on 
and  tell  her  fears. 

"  Because,"  she  went  on,  "  he — he  knows  a 
woman — whom  my  father  knew."  A  sudden  flash 


40  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

of  fire  seemed  to  light  up  her  dark  eyes.  "  A  woman 
of  Truxillo,"  she  continued,  "  Sefiora  de  Moche.'* 

"  De  Moche,"  repeated  Kennedy,  recalling  the 
name  and  a  still  unexplained  incident  of  our  first 
interview.  "  Who  is  this  Senora  de  Moche?"  he 
asked,  studying  her  as  if  she  had  been  under  a  lens. 

"  A  Peruvian  of  an  old  Indian  family,"  she  re 
plied,  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  the  words  were  forced 
from  her.  "  She  has  come  to  New  York  with  her 
son,  Alfonso.  You  remember — you  met  him.  He  is 
studying  here  at  the  University." 

Again  I  noted  the  different  manner  in  which  she 
spoke  the  two  names  of  mother  and  son.  Evidently 
there  was  some  feud,  some  barrier  between  her  and 
the  elder  woman,  which  did  not  extend  to  Alfonso. 

Kennedy  reached  for  the  University  catalogue  and 
found  the  name,  "  Alfonso  de  Moche."  He  was,  as 
he  had  told  us,  a  post-graduate  student  in  the  en 
gineering  school  and,  therefore,  not  in  any  of  Ken 
nedy's  own  classes. 

"  You  say  your  father  knew  the  Senora?  "  asked 
Kennedy. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  a  low  voice,  "  he  had  had 
some  dealings  with  her.  I  cannot  say  just  what 
they  were;  I  do  not  know.  Socially,  of  course,  it 
was  different.  They  did  not  belong  to  the  same 
circle  as  ours  in  Lima." 

From  her  tone  I  gathered  that  there  existed  a 
race  prejudice  between  those  of  old  Spanish  descent 
and  the  descendants  of  the  Indians.  That,  how 
ever,  could  not  account  for  her  attitude.  At  least 
with  her  the  prejudice  did  not  extend  to  Alfonso. 


THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS          41 

"  Senora  de  Moche  is  a  friend  of  Mr.  Whitney?  " 
queried  Kennedy. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  she  has  placed  some  of  her  af 
fairs  in  his  hands.  The  de  Moches  live  at  the  Prince 
Edward  Albert  Hotel,  and  Mr.  Whitney  lives  there, 
too.  I  suppose  they  see  more  or  less  of  each  other." 

"  H-m,"  mused  Kennedy.  "  You  know  Mr. 
Whitney,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well,"  she  answered.  "  Of  course,  I 
have  met  him.  He  has  been  to  visit  my  father,  and 
my  father  has  been  down  at  his  office,  with  Mr. 
Lockwood.  But  I  do  not  know  much  about  him,  ex 
cept  that  he  is  what  you  Americans  call  a  promoter." 

Apparently,  Inez  was  endeavouring  to  be  frank 
in  telling  her  suspicions,  much  more  so  even  than 
Norton  had  been.  But  I  could  not  help  feeling 
that  she  was  trying  to  shield  some  one,  though  not 
to  the  extent  of  consciously  putting  us  on  a  wrong 
scent. 

"  I  shall  try  to  see  Mr.  Whitney  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,"  said  Kennedy,  as  she  rose  to  go.  "  And 
Senora  de  Moche,  too." 

I  fancied  that  Senorita  Inez,  although  she  had  not 
told  us  much,  felt  relieved. 

Again  she  murmured  her  thanks  as  she  left  and 
again  Kennedy  repeated  his  injunction  to  tell  every 
thing  that  happened  that  could  possibly  have  any 
bearing  on  the  case. 

"  That's  a  rather  peculiar  phase,"  he  considered, 
when  we  were  alone,  "  this  de  Moche  affair." 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  woman 
could  be  using  Whitney  for  some  purpose?  " 


42  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Or  Whitney  using  her,"  suggested  Kennedy. 
"  There's  so  much  to  be  done  at  once  that  I  hardly 
know  where  to  begin.  We  must  see  both  of  them  as 
soon  as  possible.  Meanwhile,  that  message  from  Dr. 
Leslie  about  the  poison  interests  me.  I  must  at  least 
start  my  tests  of  the  blood  samples  that  I  extracted. 
Walter,  may  I  ask  you  to  leave  me  here  in  the 
laboratory  undisturbed?" 

I  had  some  writing  on  my  news  story  to  do,  and 
went  into  the  room  next  to  the  laboratory,  where  I 
was  soon  busily  engaged  tapping  my  typewriter. 
Suddenly  I  became  conscious  of  that  feeling,  which 
Kennedy  had  hinted  at,  of  being  watched.  Perhaps 
I  had  heard  a  footstep  outside  and  was  not  con 
sciously  aware  of  it.  But,  at  any  rate,  I  had  the 
feeling. 

I  stopped  tapping  the  keys  and  wheeled  unexpect 
edly  about  in  my  chair.  I  am  sure  that  I  caught  just 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  face  dodging  back  from  the 
window,  which  was  on  the  first  floor. 

Whose  face  it  was  I  am  not  prepared  to  assert 
exactly.  But  there  was  a  face,  and  the  fleeting 
glimpse  of  the  eyes  and  forehead  was  just  enough  to 
give  me  the  impression  that  they  were  familiar,  with 
out  enabling  me  to  identify  them.  At  any  rate,  the 
occurrence  made  me  feel  decidedly  uncomfortable, 
especially  after  the  warning  letters  that  we  had  all 
received. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  ran  to  the  door.  But  it 
was  too  late.  The  intruder  had  disappeared.  Still, 
the  more  I  thought  about  it,  the  more  determined  I 


THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS          43 

was  to  try  to  verify  an  indistinct  suspicion,  if  pos 
sible.  I  put  on  my  hat  and  walked  hurriedly  over 
to  the  office  of  the  registrar. 

Sure  enough,  I  found  that  Alfonso  de  Moche  had 
been  at  the  University  that  day,  must  have  attended 
a  lecture  an  hour  or  so  before.  Having  nothing  else 
to  do,  I  hunted  up  some  of  his  professors  and  tried 
to  quiz  them  about  him. 

As  I  had  expected,  they  told  me  that  he  was  an 
excellent  student,  though  very  quiet  and  reserved. 
His  mind  seemed  to  run  along  the  line  of  engineer 
ing,  and  particularly  mining.  I  could  not  help  com 
ing  to  the  conclusion  that  undoubtedly  he,  too,  was 
infected  by  the  furore  for  treasure  hunting,  in  spite 
of  his  Indian  ancestry. 

Yet  there  seemed  to  be  surprisingly  little  known 
about  him  outside  of  the  lecture  room  and  labora 
tory.  The  profesors  knew  that  he  lived  with  his 
mother  at  a  hotel  downtown.  He  seemed  to  have 
little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  other  students  out 
side  of  class  work.  Altogether  he  was  an  enigma, 
as  far  as  the  social  life  of  the  University  went.  It 
looked  very  much  as  though  he  had  come  to  New 
York  quietly  to  prepare  himself  for  the  search  for 
the  buried  treasure.  Had  the  Gold  of  the  Gods 
lured  him  into  its  net,  too? 

Reflecting  on  the  tangle  of  events,  the  strange 
actions  of  Lockwood  and  the  ambitions  of  Whitney, 
I  retraced  my  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  labora 
tory,  convinced  that  de  Moche  had  employed  at 
least  a  part  of  his  time  lately  in  spying  on  us.  Per- 


44  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

haps  he  had  seen  Inez  going  in  and  out.  Suddenly 
it  flashed  over  me  that  the  interchange  of  glances 
between  de  Moche  and  Lockwood  indicated  that  she 
was  more  to  him  than  a  mere  acquaintance.  Perhaps 
it  had  been  jealousy  as  well  as  treasure  hunting  that 
had  prompted  his  eavesdropping. 

Still  reflecting,  I  decided  to  turn  in  at  the  Mu 
seum  and  have  a  chat  with  Norton.  I  found  him 
nervously  pacing  up  and  down  the  little  office  that 
had  been  accorded  him  in  his  section  of  the  building. 

"  I  can't  rid  my  mind  of  that  warning,"  he  re 
marked  anxiously,  pausing  in  his  measured  tread. 
"  It  seems  inconceivable  to  me  that  any  one  would 
take  the  trouble  to  send  four  such  warnings  unless 
he  meant  it." 

"  Quite  so,"  I  agreed,  relating  to  him  what  had 
just  happened. 

"  I  thought  of  something  like  that,"  he  acquiesced, 
"  and  I  have  already  taken  some  precautions." 

Norton  waved  his  hand  at  the  windows,  which  I 
had  not  noticed  before.  Though  they  were  some  dis 
tance  above  the  ground,  I  saw  now  that  he  had 
closed  and  barred  them  at  the  expense  of  ventila 
tion.  The  warnings  seemed  to  have  made  more  of 
an  impression  on  him  than  on  any  of  the  rest  of  us. 

"  One  never  can  tell  where  or  when  a  blow  will 
fall  with  these  people,"  he  explained.  '  You  see, 
I've  lived  among  them.  They  are  a  hot-blooded 
race.  Besides,  as  you  perhaps  have  read,  they  have 
some  queer  poisons  down  in  South  America.  I  mean 
to  run  no  unnecessary  chances." 


THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS          45 

11 1  suppose  you  suspected  all  along  that  the  dag 
ger  had  something  to  do  with  the  Gold  of  the  Gods, 
did  you  not?  "  I  hinted. 

Norton  paused  before  answering,  as  though  to 
weigh  his  words.  "  Suspected — yes,"  he  replied. 
"  But,  as  I  told  you,  I  have  had  no  chance  to  read 
the  inscription  on  it.  I  can't  say  that  I  took  it  very 
seriously — until  now." 

"  It's  not  possible  that  Stuart  Whitney,  who,  I 
understand,  is  deeply  interested  in  South  America, 
may  have  had  some  inkling  of  the  value  of  the  dag 
ger,  is  it?  "  I  asked  thoughtfully. 

For  a  full  minute  Norton  gazed  at  me.  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that,"  he  admitted  at  length.  "  That's 
a  new  idea  to  me." 

Yet  somehow  I  knew  that  Norton  had  thought  of 
it,  though  he  had  not  yet  spoken  about  it.  Was  it 
through  loyalty  to  the  man  who  had  contributed  to 
financing  his  expeditions  to  South  America? 

"  Do  you  know  Senora  de  Moche  well?"  I  ven- 
turned,  a  moment  later. 

"  Fairly  well,"  he  replied.    "  Why?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her?  " 

"  Rather  a  clever  woman,"  he  replied  noncom- 
mittally. 

"  I  suppose  all  the  people  in  New  York  who  were 
interested  in  Peru  knew  her,"  I  pursued,  adding, 
"  Mr.  Whitney,  Mendoza,  Lockwood." 

Norton  hesitated,  as  though  he  was  afraid  of  say 
ing  too  much.  While  I  could  not  help  admiring  his 
caution,  I  found  that  it  was  most  exasperating.  Still, 


46  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

I  was  determined  to  get  at  his  point  of  view,  if  pos 
sible. 

"  Alfonso  seems  to  be  a  worthy  son,  then,"  I  re 
marked.  "  I  can't  quite  make  out,  though,  why  the 
Senorita  should  have  such  an  obvious  prejudice 
against  her.  It  doesn't  seem  to  extend  to  him." 

"  I  believe,"  replied  Norton  reluctantly,  "  that 
Mendoza  had  been  on  rather  intimate  terms  with 
her.  At  least,  I  think  you'll  find  the  woman  very 
ambitious  for  her  son.  I  don't  think  she  would 
have  stopped  at  much  to  advance  his  interests.  You 
must  have  noticed  how  much  Alfonso  thinks  of  the 
Senorita.  But  I  don't  think  there  was  anything  that 
could  have  overcome  the  old  Castilian's  prejudice. 
You  know  they  pride  themselves  on  never  inter 
marrying.  With  Lockwood  it  would  have  been  dif 
ferent." 

I  thought  I  began  to  get  some  glimmering  of  how 
things  were. 

"  Whitney  knows  her  pretty  well  now,  doesn't 
he  ?  "  I  shot  out. 

Norton  shrugged  his  shoulders.  But  he  could  not 
have  acquiesced  better  than  by  his  very  manner. 

"  Mr.  Lockwood  and  Mr.  Whitney  know  best 
what  they  are  doing,"  he  remarked,  at  length. 
"  Why  don't  you  and  Kennedy  try  to  see  Sefiora  de 
Moche?  I'm  a  scientist,  you  know.  I  dislike  talk 
ing  about  speculations.  I'd  prefer  only  to  express 
opinions  about  things  that  are  certainties." 

Perhaps  Norton  wished  to  convey  the  impression 
that  the  subjects  I  had  broached  were  worth  looking 
into.  At  least  it  was  the  impression  I  derived. 


THE  TREASURE  HUNTERS  47 

"  Still,"  he  continued  slowly,  "  I  think  I  am  justi 
fied  in  saying  this  much:  I  myself  have  been  inter 
ested  in  watching  both  Alfonso  de  Moche  and  Lock- 
wood  when  it  comes  to  the  case  of  the  Senorita.  All's 
fair,  they  say,  in  love  and  war.  If  I  am  any  judge, 
there  are  both  in  this  case,  somewhere.  I  think  you 
had  better  see  the  Sefiora  and  judge  for  yourself. 
She's  a  clever  woman,  I  know.  But  I'm  sure  that 
Kennedy  could  make  her  out,  even  if  the  rest  of  us 
can't." 

I  thanked  Norton  for  the  hint  that  he  had  given, 
and  after  chatting  a  few  moments  more  left  him 
alone  in  his  office. 

In  my  room  again,  I  went  back  to  finish  my  writ 
ing.  Nothing  further  occurred,  however,  to  excite 
my  suspicions,  and  at  last  I  managed  to  finish  it. 

I  was  correcting  what  I  had  written  when  the  door 
opened  from  the  laboratory  and  Craig  entered.  He 
had  thrown  off  his  old,  acid-stained  laboratory 
smock  and  was  now  dresed  to  venture  forth. 

"  Have  you  found  out  anything  about  the 
poison?  "  I  asked. 

"  Nothing  definite  yet,"  he  replied.  "  That  will 
take  some  time  now.  It's  a  strange  poison — an  alka 
loid,  I'm  sure,  but  not  one  that  one  ordinarily  en 
counters.  Still,  I've  made  a  good  beginning.  It 
won't  take  long  to  determine  it  now." 

Craig  listened  with  deep  interest,  though  without 
comment,  when  I  related  what  had  happened,  both 
Norton's  conversation  and  about  the  strange  visitor 
whom  we  had  had  peering  into  our  windows. 

"  Some  one  seems  to  be  very  much  interested  in 


48  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

what  we  are  doing,  Walter,"  he  concluded  simply. 
"  I  think  we'd  better  do  a  little  more  outside  work 
now,  while  we  have  a  chance.  If  you  are  ready,  so 
am  I.  I  want  to  see  what  sort  of  treasure  hunter 
this  Stuart  Whitney  is.  I'd  like  to  know  whether  he 
is  in  on  this  secret  of  the  Gold  of  the  Gods,  too." 


THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER 

T  OCKWOOD,  as  we  now  knew,  had  become  allied 
I  v  in  some  way  with  a  group  of  Wall  Street  capi 
talists,  headed  by  Stuart  Whitney. 

Already  I  had  heard  something  of  Whitney.  In 
the  Street  he  was  well  known  as  an  intensely  prac 
tical  man,  though  far  above  the  average  exploiter 
both  in  cleverness  and  education. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Whitney  had  been  far- 
sighted  enough  to  see  that  scholarship  could  be  capi 
talized,  not  only  as  an  advertisement,  but  in  more 
direct  manners.  Just  at  present  one  of  his  pet 
schemes  was  promoting  trade  through  the  canal  be 
tween  the  east  coast  of  North  America  and  the  west 
coast  of  South  America.  He  had  spent  a  good  deal 
of  money  promoting  friendship  between  men  of  af 
fairs  and  wealth  in  both  New  York  and  Lima.  It 
was  a  good  chance,  he  figured,  for  his  investments 
down  in  Peru  were  large,  and  anything  that  popu 
larized  the  country  in  New  York  could  not  but  make 
them  more  valuable. 

"  Norton  seemed  rather  averse  to  talking  about 
Whitney,"  I  ventured  to  Craig,  as  we  rode  down 
town. 

"  That  may  be  part  of  Whitney's  cleverness,"  he 

49 


50  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

returned  thoughtfully.  "  As  a  patron  of  art  and 
letters,  you  know,  a  man  can  carry  through  a  good 
many  things  that  otherwise  would  be  more  criti 
cally  examined." 

Kennedy  did  not  say  it  in  a  way  that  implied  that 
he  knew  anything  very  bad  about  Whitney.  Still,  I 
reflected,  it  was  astute  in  the  man  to  insure  the  co 
operation  of  such  people  as  Norton.  A  few  thou 
sand  dollars  judiciously  spent  on  archaeology  might 
cover  up  a  multitude  of  sins  of  high  finance. 

Nothing  more  was  said  by  either  of  us,  and  at 
last  we  reached  the  financial  district.  We  entered 
a  tall  skyscraper  on  Wall  Street  just  around  the  cor 
ner  from  Broadway  and  shot  up  in  the  elevator  to 
the  floor  where  Whitney  and  his  associates  had  a 
really  palatial  suite  of  offices. 

As  we  opened  the  door  we  saw  that  Lockwood 
was  still  there.  He  greeted  us  with  a  rather  stiff 
bow. 

"  Professor  Kennedy  and  Mr.  Jameson,"  he  said 
simply,  introducing  us  to  Whitney,  "  friends  of  Pro 
fessor  Norton,  I  believe.  I  met  them  to-day  up  at 
Mendoza's." 

"  That  is  a  most  incomprehensible  affair,"  re 
turned  Whitney,  shaking  hands  with  us.  "  What  do 
you  make  out  of  it?  " 

Kennedy  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned  the 
remark  aside  without  committing  himself. 

Stuart  Whitney  was  a  typical  promoter,  a  large, 
full-blooded  man,  with  a  face  red  and  inclined  to 
be  puffy  from  the  congested  veins.  His  voice  alone 


THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER        51 

commanded  respect,  whether  he  said  anything  worth 
while  or  not.  In  fact,  he  had  but  to  say  that  it  was 
a  warm  day  and  you  felt  that  he  had  scored  a  telling 
point  in  the  conversation. 

"  Professor  Norton  has  asked  me  to  look  into  the 
loss  of  an  old  Peruvian  dagger  which  he  brought 
back  from  his  last  expedition,"  explained  Kennedy, 
endeavouring  to  lead  the  conversation  in  channels 
which  might  arrive  somewhere. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  remarked  Whitney,  with  a  nod  of  in 
terest.  "  He  has  told  me  of  it.  Very  strange,  very 
strange.  When  he  came  back  he  told  me  that  he 
had  it,  along  with  a  lot  of  other  important  finds. 
But  I  had  no  idea  he  set  such  a  value  on  it — or, 
rather,  that  any  one  else  might  do  so.  It  would  have 
been  easy  to  have  safeguarded  it  here,  if  we  had 
known,"  he  added,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  a  huge  chrome  steel  safe  of  latest  de 
sign  in  the  outer  office. 

Lockwood,  I  noted,  was  listening  intently,  quite 
in  contrast  with  his  former  cavalier  manner  of  dis 
missing  all  consideration  of  ancient  Inca  lore  as  aca 
demic  or  unpractical.  Did  he  know  something  of 
the  dagger? 

"  I'm  very  much  interested  in  old  Peruvian  an 
tiquities  myself,"  remarked  Kennedy,  a  few  min 
utes  later,  "  though  not,  of  course,  a  scholar  like  our 
friend  Norton." 

"  Indeed?  "  returned  Whitney;  and  I  noticed  for 
the  first  time  that  his  eyes  seemed  fairly  to  glitter 
with  excitement. 


52  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

They  were  prominent  eyes,  a  trifle  staring,  and 
I  could  not  help  studying  them. 

"  Then,"  he  exclaimed,  rising,  "  you  must  know  of 
the  ruins  of  Chan-Chan,  of  Chima — those  wonderful 
places?  " 

Kennedy  nodded.  "  And  of  Truxillo  and  the  leg 
end  of  the  great  fish  and  the  little  fish,"  he  put  in. 

Whitney  seemed  extraordinarily  pleased  that  any 
one  should  be  willing  to  discuss  his  hobby  with  him. 
His  eyes  by  this  time  were  apparently  starting  from 
their  sockets,  and  I  noticed  that  the  pupils  were  di 
lated  almost  to  the  size  of  the  iris. 

"  We  must  sit  down  and  talk  about  Peru,"  he 
continued,  reaching  for  a  large  box  of  cigarettes  in 
the  top  drawer  of  his  big  desk. 

Lockwood  seemed  to  sense  a  long  discussion  of 
archaeology.  He  rose  and  mumbled  an  excuse  about 
having  something  to  do  in  the  outer  office. 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  wonderful  country,  Professor  Ken 
nedy,"  went  on  Whitney,  throwing  himself  back  in 
his  chair.  "  I  am  deeply  interested  in  it — its  mines, 
its  railroads,  as  well  as  its  history.  Let  me  show 
you  a  map  of  our  interests  down  there." 

He  rose  and  passed  into  the  next  room  to  get  the 
map.  The  moment  his  back  was  turned,  Kennedy 
reached  over  to  a  typewriter  desk  that  stood  in  a 
corner  of  the  office,  left  open  by  the  stenographer, 
who  had  gone.  He  took  two  thin  second  sheets  of 
paper  and  a  new  carbon  sheet.  A  hasty  dab  or  two 
of  the  library  paste  completed  his  work. 

Carefully  Craig  laid  the  prepared  paper  on  the 


THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER        53 

floor  just  a  few  inches  from  the  door  into  the  outer 
office  and  scattered  a  few  other  sheets  about,  as 
though  the  wind  had  blown  them  off  the  desk. 

As  Whitney  returned,  a  big  map  unrolled  in  his 
hands,  I  saw  his  foot  fall  on  the  double  sheet  that 
Craig  had  laid  by  the  door. 

Kennedy  bent  down  and  began  picking  up  the 
papers. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  remarked  Whitney 
brusquely.  "  Never  mind  that.  Here's  where  some 
of  our  interests  lie,  in  the  north." 

I  don't  think  I  paid  much  more  attention  to  the 
map  than  did  Kennedy  as  we  three  bent  over  it. 
His  real  attention  was  on  the  paper  which  he  had 
placed  on  the  floor,  as  though  fixing  in  his  mind  the 
exact  spot  on  which  Whitney  had  stepped. 

As  Whitney  talked  rapidly  about  the  country,  we 
lighted  the  cigarettes.  They  seemed  to  be  of  a 
special  brand.  I  puffed  mine  for  a  moment.  There 
was  a  peculiar  taste  about  it,  however,  which  I  did 
not  exactly  like.  In  fact,  I  think  that  the  Latin- 
American  cigarettes  do  not  seem  to  appeal  to  most 
Americans  very  much,  anyhow. 

WThile  we  talked,  I  noticed  that  Kennedy  evi 
dently  shared  my  own  tastes,  for  he  allowed  his 
cigarette  to«go  out,  and,  after  a  puff  or  two,  I  did 
the  same.  For  the  sake  of  my  own  comfort,  I  drew 
one  of  my  own  from  my  case  as  soon  as  I  could  do  so 
politely,  and  laid  the  stub  of  the  other  in  an  ash-tray 
on  Whitney's  desk. 

"  Mr.  Lockwood  and  Senor  Mendoza  had  some 


54  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

joint  interests  in  the  country,  too,  didn't  they?" 
queried  Kennedy,  his  eye  still  on  the  pieces  of  paper 
near  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Whitney.     "  Lockwood  I  " 

"  What  is  it?  "  came  Lockwood's  voice  from  out 
side. 

"  Show  Professor  Kennedy  where  you  and  Men- 
doza  have  those  concessions." 

The  young  engineer  strode  into  the  room,  and  I 
saw  a  smile  of  gratification  cross  Kennedy's  face  as 
his  foot,  also,  fell  on  the  paper  by  the  door. 

Unlike  Whitney,  however,  Lockwood  bent  over 
to  gather  up  the  sheets.  But  before  he  could  actu 
ally  do  so  Kennedy  reached  down  and  swept  them 
just  out  of  his  reach. 

"  Quite  breezy,"  Kennedy  covered  up  his  action, 
turning  to  restore  the  paper  to  the  desk. 

Craig  had  his  back  to  them,  but  not  to  me,  and  I 
saw  him  fumble  for  an  instant  with  the  papers. 
Quickly  he  pressed  his  thumb-nail  on  one  side,  as 
though  making  a  rough  "W,"  while  on  the  other 
side  he  made  what  might  be  an  "  L."  Then  he 
shoved  the  two  sheets  and  the  carbon  into  his  pocket. 

I  glanced  up  hastily.  Fortunately,  neither  Whit 
ney  nor  Lockwood  had  noted  his  action. 

For  the  first  time,  now,  I  noticed  as  I  watched 
him  that  Lockwood's  eyes,  too,  were  a  trifle  stary, 
though  not  so  noticeable  as  Whitney's. 

"  Let  me  see,"  continued  Whitney,  "  your  con 
cessions  are  all  about  here,  in  the  north,  aren't 
they?" 


THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER        55 

Lockwood  drew  a  pencil  from  his  pocket  and 
made  several  cross-marks  over  the  names  of  some 
towns  on  the  large  map. 

"  Those  are  the  points  that  we  had  proposed  to 
work,"  he  said  simply,  "  before  this  terrible  tragedy 
to  Mendoza." 

"  Mining,  you  understand,"  explained  Whitney. 
Then,  after  a  pause,  he  resumed  quickly.  "  Of 
course,  you  know  that  much  has  been  said  about  the 
chances  for  mining  investments  and  about  the  op 
portunities  for  fortunes  for  persons  in  South  Amer 
ica.  Peru  has  been  the  Mecca  for  fortune  hunters 
since  the  days  of  Pizarro.  But  where  one  person  has 
been  s-uccessful  thousands  have  failed  because  they 
don't  know  the  game.  Why,  I  know  of  one  invest 
ment  of  hundreds  of  thousands  that  hasn't  yielded  a 
cent  of  profit  just  because  of  that." 

Lockwood  said  nothing,  evidently  not  caring  to 
waste  time  or  breath  on  any  one  who  was  not  a 
possible  investor.  But  Whitney  had  the  true  pro 
moter's  instinct  of  booming  his  scheme  on  the  chance 
that  the  interest  inspired  might  be  carried  to  some 
third  party. 

"  American  financiers,  it  is  true,"  he  went  on  ex 
citedly,  taking  out  a  beautifully  chased  gold  ciga 
rette  case,  "  have  lost  millions  in  mining  in  Peru. 
But  that  is  not  the  scheme  that  our  group,  including 
Mr.  Lockwood  now,  has.  We  are  going  to  make 
more  millions  than  they  ever  dreamed  of — because 
we  are  simply  going  to  mine  for  the  products  of 


56  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

centuries   of   labour   already   done — for   the   great 
treasure  of  Truxillo." 

One  could  not  help  becoming  infected  by  Whit 
ney's  enthusiasm. 

Kennedy  was  following  him  closely,  while  a  frown 
of  disapproval  spread  over  Lockwood's  face. 

"  Then  you  know  the  secret  of  the  hiding-place 
of  the  treasure?  "  queried  Kennedy  abruptly. 

Whitney  shook  his  head  in  the  negative.  "  It  is 
my  idea  that  we  don't  have  to  know  it,"  he  answered. 
"  With  the  hints  that  we  have  collected  from  the 
natives,  I  think  we  can  locate  it  with  the  expenditure 
of  comparatively  little  time  and  money.  Senor  Men- 
doza  has  obtained  the  concession  from  the  govern 
ment  to  hunt  for  it  on  a  large  scale  in  the  big  mounds 
about  Truxillo.  We  know  it  is  there.  Is  not  that 
enough?  " 

If  it  had  been  any  one  less  than  Whitney,  we 
should  probably  have  said  it  was  not.  But  it  took 
more  than  that  to  deny  anything  he  asserted.  Lock- 
wood's  face  was  a  study.  I  cannot  say  that  it  be 
trayed  anything  except  disapproval  of  the  mere  dis 
cussion  of  the  subject.  In  fact,  it  left  me  in  doubt 
as  to  whether  Whitney  himself  might  not  have  been 
bluffing,  in  the  certainty  of  finding  the  treasure — 
perhaps  had  already  the  secret  he  denied  having  and 
was  preparing  to  cover  it  up  by  stumbling  on  it,  ap 
parently,  in  some  other  way.  I  recognized  in  Stuart 
Whitney  as  smooth  an  individual  as  ever  we  had 
encountered.  His  was  all  the  sincerity  of  a  crook. 
Yet  he  contrived  to  leave  the  whole  matter  in  doubt. 


THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER        57 

Perhaps  in  this  case  he  actually  knew  what  he  was 
talking  about. 

The  telephone  rang  and  Lockwood  answered  it. 
Though  he  did  not  mention  her  name,  I  knew  from 
his  very  tone  and  manner  that  it  was  Senorita  de 
Mendoza  who  was  calling  up.  Evidently  his  con 
tinued  absence  had  worried  her. 

"  There's  absolutely  nothing  to  worry  about,"  we 
heard  him  say.  "  Nothing  has  changed.  I  shall  be 
up  to  see  you  as  soon  as  I  can  get  away  from  the 
office." 

There  was  an  air  of  restraint  about  Lockwood's 
remarks,  not  as  though  he  were  keeping  anything 
from  the  Senorita,  but  as  though  he  were  reluctant 
for  us  to  overhear  anything  about  his  affairs. 

Lockwood  had  been  smoking,  too,  and  he  added 
the  stubs  of  his  cigarettes  to  the  pile  in  the  ash-tray 
on  Whitney's  desk.  Once  I  saw  Craig  cast  a  quick 
glance  at  the  tray,  and  I  understood  that  in  some 
way  he  was  anxious  to  have  a  chance  to  investigate 
those  cigarettes. 

"  You  saw  the  dagger  which  Norton  brought  back, 
did  you  not?  "  asked  Kennedy  of  Whitney. 

"  Only  as  I  saw  the  rest  of  the  stuff  after  it  was 
unpacked,"  he  replied  easily.  "  He  brought  back  a 
great  many  interesting  objects  on  this  last  trip." 

It  was  apparent  that  whether  he  actually  knew 
anything  about  the  secret  of  the  Inca  dagger  or  not, 
Whitney  was  not  to  be  trapped  into  betraying  it. 
I  had  an  idea  that  Lockwood  was  interested  in  know 
ing  that  fact,  too.  At  any  rate,  one  could  not  be 


58  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

sure  whether  these  two  were  perfectly  frank  with 
each  other,  or  were  playing  a  game  for  high  stakes 
between  themselves. 

Lockwood  seemed  eager  to  get  away  and,  with  a 
hasty  glance  at  his  watch,  rose. 

"  If  you  wish  to  find  me,  I  shall  be  with  Senorita 
de  Mendoza,"  he  said,  taking  his  hat  and  stick,  and 
bowing  to  us. 

Whitney  rose  and  accompanied  him  to  the  door  in 
the  outer  office,  his  arm  on  his  shoulder,  conversing 
in  a  low  tone  that  was  inaudible  to  us. 

No  sooner,  however,  had  the  two  passed  through 
the  door,  with  their  backs  toward  us,  than  Ken 
nedy  reached  over  quickly  and  swept  the  contents  of 
the  ash-tray,  cigarette  stubs,  ashes,  and  all,  into 
an  empty  envelope  which  was  lying  with  some 
papers.  Then  he  sealed  it  and  shoved  it  into  his 
pocket,  with  a  sidelong  glance  of  satisfaction  at  me. 

"  Evidently  Mr.  Lockwood  and  the  Senorita  are 
on  intimate  terms,"  hazarded  Kennedy,  as  Whitney 
rejoined  us. 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  soliloquized  the  promoter. 
"  Yes,  indeed.  And  Lockwood  is  a  lucky  dog,  too. 
Such  eyes,  such  a  figure — did  you  ever  see  a  more 
beautiful  woman?  " 

One  could  not  help  recognizing  that  whatever  else 
Whitney  might  have  said  that  did  not  ring  true  his 
admiration  for  the  unfortunate  girl  was  genuine. 
That  was  not  so  remarkable,  however.  It  could 
hardly  have  been  otherwise. 

"  You  are  acquainted,  I  suppose,  with  a  Sefiora 


THE  WALL  STREET  PROMOTER        59 

de  Moche?"  ventured  Kennedy  again,  taking  a 
chance  shot. 

Whitney  looked  at  him  keenly.  "  Yes,"  he  agreed, 
"  I  have  had  some  dealings  with  her.  She  was  an 
acquaintance  of  old  Mendoza's — a  woman  of  the 
world,  clever,  shrewd.  I  think  she  has  but  one  am 
bition — her  son.  You  have  met  her?  " 

"  Not  the  Seiiora,"  admitted  Craig,  "  but  her  son 
is  a  student  at  the  University." 

"  Oh,  yes,  to  be  sure,"  said  Whitney.  "  A  fine 
fellow — but  not  of  the  type  of  Lockwood." 

Why  he  should  have  coupled  the  names  was  not 
clear  for  the  moment.  But  he  had  risen,  and  was 
moving  deliberately  up  and  down  the  office,  his 
thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  pockets,  as  though  he  were 
thinking  of  something  very  perplexing. 

"  If  I  were  younger,"  he  remarked  finally,  of  a 
sudden,  "  I  would  give  both  of  them  a  race  for  that 
girl.  She  is  the  greatest  treasure  that  has  ever  come 
out  of  the  country.  Ah,  well — as  it  is,  I  would  not 
place  my  money  on  young  de  Moche !  " 

Kennedy  had  risen  to  go. 

"  I  trust  you  will  be  able  to  unearth  some  clue  re 
garding  that  dagger,"  said  Whitney,  as  we  moved 
toward  the  door.  "  It  seems  to  have  worried  Nor 
ton  considerably,  especially  since  you  told  him  that 
Mendoza  was  undoubtedly  murdered  with  it." 

Evidently  Norton  kept  in  close  touch  with  his 
patron,  but  Kennedy  did  not  appear  to  be  surprised 
at  it. 


60  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  I  am  doing  my  best,"  he  returned.  "  I  suppose 
I  may  count  on  your  help  as  the  case  develops?  " 

"  Absolutely,"  replied  Whitney,  accompanying  us 
out  into  the  hall  to  the  elevator.  "  I  shall  back 
Norton  in  anything  he  wants  to  keep  the  Peruvian 
collection  intact  and  protected." 

Our  questions  were  as  yet  unanswered.  Not  only 
had  we  no  inkling  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  dag 
ger,  but  the  source  of  the  four  warnings  that  had 
been  sent  us  was  still  as  much  shrouded  in  mystery. 

Kennedy  beckoned  to  a  passing  taxicab. 

41  The  Prince  Edward  Albert,"  he  directed  briefly. 


VI 
THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE 

WE  entered  the  Prince  Edward  Albert  a  few 
minutes  later,  one  of  the  new  and  beautiful 
family  hotels  uptown. 

Before  making  any  inquiries,  Craig  gave  a  hasty 
look  about  the  lobby.  Suddenly  I  felt  him  take 
my  arm  and  draw  me  over  to  a  little  alcove  on  one 
side.  I  followed  the  direction  of  his  eyes.  There  I 
could  see  young  Alfonso  de  Moche  talking  to  a 
woman  much  older  than  himself. 

"  That  must  be  his  mother,"  whispered  Craig. 
"  You  can  see  the  resemblance.  Let's  sit  here  awhile 
behind  these  palms  and  watch." 

They  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  an  earnest  conver 
sation  about  something.  Even  as  they  talked, 
though  we  could  not  guess  what  it  was  about,  it 
was  evident  that  Alfonso  was  dearer  than  life  to 
the  woman  and  that  the  young  man  was  a  model 
son.  Though  I  felt  that  I  must  admire  them  each 
for  it,  still,  I  reflected,  that  was  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  suspect  them — perhaps  rather  a  reason 
for  suspecting. 

Senora  de  Moche  was  a  woman  of  well-preserved 
middle  age,  a  large  woman,  with  dark  hair  and  con 
trasting  full,  red  lips.  Her  face,  in  marked  contra 
diction  to  her  Parisian  costume  and  refined  manners, 

61 


62  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

had  a  slight  copper  swarthiness  about  it  which  spoke 
eloquently  of  her  ancestry. 

But  it  was  her  eyes  that  arrested  and  held  one's 
attention  most.  Whether  it  was  in  the  eyes  them 
selves  or  in  the  way  that  she  used  them,  there  could 
be  no  mistake  about  the  almost  hypnotic  power  that 
their  owner  possessed.  I  could  not  help  wondering 
whether  she  might  not  have  exercised  it  on  Don 
Luis,  perhaps  was  using  it  in  some  way  to  influence 
Whitney.  Was  that  the  reason  why  the  Senorita 
so  evidently  feared  her? 

Fortunately,  from  our  vantage  point,  we  could  see 
without  being  in  any  danger  of  being  seen. 

"  There's  Whitney,"  I  heard  Craig  mutter  under 
his  breath. 

I  looked  up  and  saw  the  promoter  enter  from  his 
car.  At  almost  the  same  instant  the  roving  eyes  of 
the  Senora  seemed  to  catch  sight  of  him.  He  came 
over  and  spoke  to  the  de  Moches,  standing  with  them 
several  minutes.  I  fancied  that  not  for  an  instant 
did  she  allow  the  gaze  of  any  one  else  to  distract 
her  in  the  projection  of  whatever  weird  ocular  power 
nature  had  endowed  her  with.  If  it  were  a  battle 
of  eyes,  I  recollected  the  strange  look  that  I  had 
noted  about  those  of  both  Whitney  and  Lockwood. 
That,  however,  was  different  from  the  impression 
one  got  of  the  Senora's.  I  felt  that  she  would 
have  to  be  pretty  clever  to  match  the  subtlety  of 
Whitney. 

Whatever  it  was  they  were  talking  about,  one 
could  see  that  Whitney  and  Senora  de  Moche  were 


THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE          63 

on  very  familiar  terms.  At  the  same  time,  young 
de  Moche  appeared  to  be  ill  at  ease.  Perhaps  he 
did  not  approve  of  the  intimacy  with  Whitney.  At 
any  rate,  he  seemed  visibly  relieved  when  the  pro 
moter  excused  himself  and  walked  over  to  the  desk 
to  get  his  mail  and  then  out  into  the  cafe. 

"  I'd  like  to  get  a  better  view  of  her,"  remarked 
Kennedy,  rising.  "  Let  us  take  a  turn  or  two  along 
the  corridor  and  pass  them." 

We  sauntered  forth  from  our  alcove  and  strolled 
down  among  the  various  knots  of  people  chatting  and 
laughing.  As  we  passed  the  woman  and  her  son,  I 
was  conscious  again  of  that  strange  feeling,  which 
psychologists  tell  us,  however,  has  no  real  founda 
tion,  of  being  stared  at  from  behind. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  lobby  Kennedy  turned 
suddenly  and  we  started  to  retrace  our  steps.  Al 
fonso's  back  was  toward  us  now.  Again  we  passed 
them,  just  in  time  to  catch  the  words,  in  a  low  tone, 
from  the  young  man,  "  Yes,  I  have  seen  him  at  the 
University.  Every  one  there  knows  that  he  is— 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  lost.  But  it  was  not 
difficult  to  reconstruct.  It  referred  undoubtedly  to 
the  activities  of  Kennedy  in  unravelling  mysteries. 

"  It's  quite  evident,"  I  suggested,  "  that  they  know 
that  we  are  interested  in  them  now." 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed.  "  There  wasn't  any  use  of 
watching  them  further  from  under  cover.  I  wanted 
them  to  see  me,  just  to  find  out  what  they  would  do." 

Kennedy  was  right.  Indeed,  even  before  we 
turned  again,  we  found  that  the  Senora  and  Alfonso 


64  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

had  risen  and  were  making  their  way  slowly  to  the 
elevators,  still  talking  earnestly.  The  lifts  were 
around  an  angle,  and  before  we  could  place  our 
selves  so  that  we  could  observe  them  again  they  were 
gone. 

"  I  wish  there  was  some  way  of  adding  Alfonso's 
shoe-prints  to  my  collection,"  observed  Craig. 
"  The  marks  that  I  found  in  the  dust  of  the  sarcoph 
agus  in  the  Museum  were  those  of  a  man's  shoes. 
However,  I  suppose  I  must  wait  to  get  them." 

He  walked  over  to  the  desk  and  made  inquiries 
about  the  de  Moches  and  Whitney.  Each  had  a 
suite  on  the  eighth  floor,  though  on  opposite  sides 
and  at  opposite  ends  of  the  hall. 

"  There's  no  use  wasting  time  trying  to  conceal 
our  identity  now,"  remarked  Kennedy  finally,  draw 
ing  a  card  from  his  case.  "  Besides,  we  came  here 
to  see  them,  anyhow."  He  handed  the  card  to  the 
clerk.  "  Senora  de  Moche,  please,"  he  said. 

The  clerk  took  the  card  and  telephoned  up  to  the 
de  Moche  suite.  I  must  say  that  it  was  somewhat 
to  my  surprise  that  the  Senora  telephoned  down  to 
say  that  she  would  receive  us  in  her  own  sitting 
room. 

"  That's  very  kind,"  commented  Craig,  as  I  fol 
lowed  him  into  the  elevator.  "  It  saves  planning 
some  roundabout  way  of  meeting  her  and  comes  di 
rectly  to  the  point." 

The  elevator  whisked  us  up  directly  to  the  eighth 
floor  and  we  stepped  out  into  the  heavily  carpeted 
hallway,  passing  down  to  Room  810,  which  was  the 


THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE          65 

number  of  her  suite.  Further  on,  in  825,  was  Whit 
ney's. 

Alfonso  was  not  there.  Evidently  he  had  not 
ridden  up  with  his  mother,  after  all,  but  had  gone 
out  through  another  entrance  on  the  ground  floor. 
The  Senora  was  alone. 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  pardon  me  for  intruding," 
began  Craig,  with  as  plausible  an  explanation  as  he 
could  muster,  "  but  I  have  become  interested  in  an 
opportunity  to  invest  in  a  Peruvian  venture,  and  I 
have  heard  that  you  are  a  Peruvian.  Your  son,  Al 
fonso,  I  have  already  met,  once.  I  thought  that 
perhaps  you  might  be  able  to  give  me  some  advice." 

She  looked  at  us  keenly,  but  said'  nothing.  I 
fancied  that  she  detected  the  subterfuge.  Yet  she 
had  not  tried,  and  did  not  try  now  to  avoid  us. 
Either  she  had  no  connection  with  the  case  we  were 
investigating  or  she  was  an  adept  actress. 

On  closer  view,  her  eyes  were  really  even  more  re 
markable  than  I  had  imagined  at  a  distance.  They 
were  those  of  a  woman  endowed  with  an  abundance 
of  health  and  energy,  eyes  that  were  full  of  what 
the  old  character  readers  used  to  call  "  amative- 
ness,"  denoting  a  nature  capable  of  intense  passion, 
whether  of  love  or  hate.  Yet  I  confess  that  I  could 
not  find  anything  especially  abnormal  about  them,  as 
I  had  about  the  eyes  of  Lockwood  and  Whitney. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  replied,  and  I  gave 
a  hasty  glance  about  the  apartment.  Of  course,  it 
had  been  rented  furnished,  but  she  had  rearranged  it, 
adding  some  touches  of  her  own  which  gave  it  quite  a 


66  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Peruvian  appearance,  due  perhaps  more  to  the  pic 
tures  and  the  ornaments  which  she  had  introduced 
rather  than  anything  else. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  replied,  at  length,  slowly,  and 
looking  at  us  as  if  she  would  bore  right  through 
into  our  minds,  "  I  suppose  you  mean  the  schemes  of 
Mr.  Lockwood— and  Mr.  Whitney." 

Kennedy  was  not  to  be  taken  by  surprise.  "  I 
have  heard  of  their  schemes,  too,"  he  replied  non- 
committally.  "  Peru  seems  to  be  a  veritable  store 
house  of  tales  of  buried  treasure." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  about  it,"  she  hastened,  nod 
ding  at  the  very  words  "  buried  treasure."  "  I  sup 
pose  you  know  that  the  old  Chimu  tribes  in  the 
north  were  the  wealthiest  at  the  time  of  the  coming 
of  the  Spaniards?  " 

Craig  nodded,  and  a  moment  later  she  resumed,  as 
if  trying  to  marshal  her  thoughts  in  a  logical  order. 
"  They  had  a  custom  then  of  burying  with  their  dead 
all  their  movable  property.  Graves  were  not  dug 
separately.  Therefore,  you  see,  sometimes  a  com 
mon  grave,  or  huaca,  as  it  is  called,  would  be  given 
to  many.  That  huaca  would  become  a  cache  of  treas 
ure  in  time.  It  was  sacred  to  the  dead,  and  hence 
it  was  wicked  to  touch  it." 

The  Sefiora's  face  betrayed  the  fact  that,  what 
ever  modern  civilization  had  done  for  her,  it  had 
not  yet  quite  succeeded  in  eliminating  the  old  ideas. 

"  Back  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  cen 
tury,"  she  continued,  leaning  forward  in  her  chair 
eagerly  as  she  talked,  "  a  Spaniard  opened  a  Chimu 


THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE          67 

huaca  and  found  gold  that  is  said  to  have  been  worth 
more  than  a  million  dollars.  An  Indian  told  him 
about  it.  Who  the  Indian  was  does  not  matter.  But 
the  Spaniard  was  an  ancestor  of  Don  Luis  de  Men- 
doza,  who  was  found  murdered  to-day." 

She  stopped  short,  seeming  to  enjoy  the  surprised 
look  on  our  faces  at  finding  that  she  was  willing  to 
discuss  the  matter  so  intimately. 

"  After  the  Indian  had  shown  the  Spaniard  the 
treasure  in  the  mound,"  she  pursued,  "  the  Indian 
told  the  Spaniard  that  he  had  given  him  only  the  little 
fish,  the  peje  chica,  but  that  some  day  he  would  give 
him  the  big  fish,  the  peje  grande.  I  see  that  you 
already  know  at  least  a  part  of  the  story,  anyhow." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Kennedy,  "  I  do  know  some 
thing  of  it.  But  I  should  rather  get  it  more  ac 
curately  from  your  lips  than  from  the  hearsay  of 
any  one  else." 

She  smiled  quietly  to  herself.  "  I  don't  believe," 
she  added,  "  that  you  know  that  the  peje  grande  was 
not  ordinary  treasure.  It  was  the  temple  gold.  Why, 
some  of  the  temples  were  literally  plated  over  heav 
ily  with  pure  gold.  That  gold,  as  well  as  what  had 
been  buried  in  the  huacas,  was  sacred.  Mansiche, 
the  supreme  ruler,  laid  a  curse  on  it,  on  any  Indian 
who  would  tell  of  it,  on  any  Spaniard  who  might 
learn  of  it.  A  curse  lies  on  the  finding — yes,  even 
on  the  searching  for  the  sacred  Gold  of  the  Gods. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  awful  curses  that  have  ever 
been  uttered,  that  curse  of  Mansiche." 

Even  as  she  spoke  of  it  she  lowered  her  voice.    I 


68  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

felt  that  no  matter  how  much  education  she  had, 
there  lurked  back  in  her  brain  some  of  the  primitive 
impulses,  as  well  as  beliefs.  Either  the  curse  of 
Mansiche  on  the  treasure  was  as  real  to  her  as  if  its 
mere  touch  were  poisonous,  or  else  she  was  going 
out  of  her  way  to  create  that  impression  with  us. 

"  Somehow,"  she  continued,  in  a  low  tone,  "  that 
Spaniard,  the  ancestor  of  Don  Luis  Mendoza,  ob 
tained  some  idea  of  the  secret.  He  died,"  she  said 
solemnly,  flashing  a  glance  at  Craig  from  her  won 
derful  eyes  to  stamp  the  idea  indelibly.  "  He  was 
stabbed  by  one  of  the  members  of  the  tribe.  On  the 
dagger,  so  I  have  heard,  was  marked  the  secret  of 
the  treasure." 

I  felt  that  in  a  bygone  age  she  might  have  made  a 
great  priestess  of  the  heathen  gods.  Now,  was  she 
more  than  a  clever  actress? 

She  paused,  then  added,  "  That  is  my  tribe — my 
family." 

Again  she  paused.  "  For  centuries  the  big  fish 
was  a  secret,  is  still  a  secret — or,  at  least,  was  until 
some  one  got  it  from  my  brother  down  in  Peru. 
The  tradition  and  the  dagger  had  been  intrusted  to 
him.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened.  Somehow  he 
seemed  to  grow  crazy — until  he  talked.  The  dagger 
was  stolen  from  him.  How  it  happened,  how  it  came 
into  Professor  Norton's  hands,  I  do  not  know. 

"  But,  at  any  rate,"  she  continued,  in  the  same 
solemn  tone,  "  the  curse  has  followed  it.  After  my 
brother  had  told  the  secret  of  the  dagger  and  lost 
it,  his  mind  left  him.  He  threw  himself  one  day 
into  Lake  Titicaca." 


THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE          69 

Her  voice  broke  dramatically  in  her  passionate 
outpouring  of  the  tragedies  that  had  followed  the 
hidden  treasure  and  the  Inca  dagger. 

"  Now,  here  in  New  York,  comes  this  awful  death 
of  Senior  Mendoza,"  she  cried.  "  I  don't  know,  no 
one  knows,  whether  he  had  obtained  the  secret  of  the 
gold  or  not.  At  any  rate,  he  must  have  thought  he 
had  it.  He  has  been  killed  suddenly,  in  his  own 
home.  That  is  my  answer  to  your  inquiry  about 
the  treasure-hunting  company  you  mentioned,  what 
ever  it  may  be.  I  need  say  no  more  of  the  curse 
of  Mansiche.  Is  the  Gold  of  the  Gods  worth  it?  " 

There  could  be  no  denying  that  it  was  real  to  her, 
whatever  we  might  think  of  the  story.  I  recol 
lected  the  roughly  printed  warnings  that  had  been 
sent  to  Norton,  Leslie,  Kennedy,  and  myself.  Had 
they,  then,  some  significance?  I  had  not  been  able 
to  convince  myself  that  they  were  the  work  of  a 
crank,  alone.  There  must  be  some  one  to  whom  the 
execution  of  vengeance  of  the  gods  was  an  impera 
tive  duty.  Unsuperstitious  as  I  was,  I  saw  here  a 
real  danger.  If  some  one,  either  to  preserve  the 
secret  for  himself  or  else  called  by  divine  mandate 
to  revenge,  should  take  a  notion  to  carry  out  the 
threats  in  the  four  notes,  what  might  not  happen? 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  much  more  of  fact  than  you 
probably  already  know,"  she  remarked,  watching 
our  faces  intently  and  noting  the  effect  of  every 
word.  "  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  the  treasure  has 
always  been  believed  to  be  in  a  large  mound,  a 
tumulus  I  think  you  call  it,  visible  from  our  town 
of  Truxillo.  Many  people  have  tried  to  open  it,  but 


70  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

the  mass  of  sand  pours  down  on  them  and  they  have 
been  discouraged." 

"No  one  has  ever  stumbled  on  the  secret?" 
queried  Kennedy. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  There  have  been  those 
who  have  sought,  there  are  even  those  who  are  seek 
ing,  the  point  just  where  to  bore  into  the  mounds. 
If  they  could  find  it,  they  plan  to  construct  a  well- 
timbered  tunnel  to  keep  back  the  sand  and  to  drive 
it  at  the  right  point  to  obtain  this  fabulous  wealth." 

She  vouchsafed  the  last  information  with  a  sort 
of  quiet  assurance  that  conveyed  the  idea,  without 
her  saying  it  directly,  that  any  such  venture  was 
somehow  doomed  to  failure,  that  desecrators  were 
merely  toying  with  fate. 

All  through  her  story  one  could  see  that  she  felt 
deeply  the  downfall  and  betrayal  of  her  brother,  fol 
lowed  by  the  tragedy  to  him  after  the  age-old  secret 
had  slipped  from  his  grasp.  Was  there  still  to  be 
vengeance  for  his  downfall?  Surely,  I  thought  to 
myself,  Don  Luis  de  Mendoza  could  not  have  been 
in  possession  of  the  secret,  unless  he  had  arrived  at 
it,  with  Lockwood,  in  some  other  way  than  by  de 
ciphering  the  almost  illegible  marks  of  the  dagger. 
I  thought  of  Whitney.  Had  he  perhaps  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  nasty  business? 

I  happened  to  glance  at  a  huge  pile  of  works  on 
mining  engineering  on  the  table,  the  property  of 
Alfonso.  She  saw  me  looking  at  them,  and  her  eyes 
assumed  a  far-away,  dreamy  impression  as  she  mur 
mured  something. 

"  You  must  know  that  we  real  Peruvians  have  been 


THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE          71 

so  educated  that  we  never  explore  ruins  for  hidden 
treasure,  not  even  if  we  have  the  knowledge  of  en 
gineering  to  do  so.  It  is  a  sort  of  sacrilege  to  us 
to  do  that.  The  gold  was  not  our  gold,  you  see. 
Some  of  it  belongs  to  the  spirits  of  the  departed. 
But  the  big  treasure  belonged  to  the  gods  them 
selves.  It  was  the  gold  which  lay  in  sheets  over  the 
temple  walls,  sacred.  No,  we  would  not  touch  it." 

I  wondered  cynically  what  would  happen  if  some 
one  at  that  moment  had  appeared  with  the  authenti 
cated  secret.  She  continued  to  gaze  at  the  books. 
"  There  are  plenty  of  rare  chances  for  a  young  min 
ing  engineer  in  Peru  without  that." 

Apparently  she  was  thinking  of  her  son  and  his 
studies  at  the  University  as  they  affected  his  future 
career. 

One  could  follow  her  thoughts,  even,  as  they 
flitted  from  the  treasure,  to  the  books,  to  her  son, 
and,  finally,  to  the  pretty  girl  for  whom  both  he 
and  Lockwood  were  struggling. 

"  We  are  a  peculiar  race,"  she  ruminated.  "  We 
seldom  intermarry  with  other  races.  We  are  as 
proud  as  Senor  Mendoza  was  of  his  Castilian  de 
scent,  as  proud  of  our  unmixed  lineage  as  any  de 
scendant  of  a  '  belted  earl.' ' 

Senora  de  Moche  made  the  remarks  with  a  quiet 
dignity  which  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the  race 
feeling  cut  deeply. 

She  had  risen  now,  and  in  place  of  the  awesome 
fear  of  the  curse  and  tragedy  of  the  treasure  her 
face  was  burning  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Old  Don  Luis  thought  I  was  good  enough  to 


72  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  CODS 

amuse  his  idle  hours,"  she  cried.  "  But  when  he 
saw  that  Alfonso  was  in  love  with  his  daughter,  that 
she  might  return  that  love,  then  I  found  out  bitterly 
that  he  placed  us  in  another  class,  another  caste." 

Kennedy  had  been  following  her  closely,  and  I 
could  see  now  that  the  cross-currents  of  supersti 
tion,  avarice,  and  race  hatred  in  the  case  presented 
a  tangle  that  challenged  him. 

There  was  nothing  more  that  we  could  extract 
from  her  just  then.  She  had  remained  standing,  as 
a  gentle  reminder  that  the  interview  had  already 
been  long. 

Kennedy  took  the  hint.  "  I  wish  to  thank  you 
for  the  trouble  you  have  gone  to,"  he  bowed,  after 
we,  too,  had  risen.  "  You  have  told  me  quite  enough 
to  make  me  think  seriously  before  I  join  in  any  such 
undertaking." 

She  smiled  enigmatically.  Whether  it  was  that 
she  had  enjoyed  penetrating  our  rather  clumsy  ex 
cuse  for  seeing  her,  or  that  she  felt  that  the  horror 
of  the  curse  had  impressed  us,  she  seemed  well  con 
tent. 

We  bowed  ourselves  out,  and,  after  waiting  a  few 
moments  about  the  hotel  without  seeing  Whitney 
anywhere,  Craig  called  a  car. 

"  They  were  right,"  was  his  only  comment.  "  A 
most  baffling  woman,  indeed." 


VII 
THE  ARROW  POISON 

BACK  again  in  the  laboratory,  Kennedy  threw 
off  his  coat  and  plunged  again  into  his  inves 
tigation  of  the  blood  sample  he  had  taken  from  the 
wound  in  Mendoza's  body. 

We  had  scarcely  been  back  half  an  hour  before 
the  door  opened  and  Dr.  Leslie's  perplexed  face 
looked  in  on  us.  He  was  carrying  a  large  jar,  in 
which  he  had  taken  away  the  materials  which  he 
wished  to  examine. 

"  Well,"  asked  Kennedy,  pausing  with  a  test-tube 
poised  over  a  Bunsen  burner,  "  have  you  found  any 
thing  yet?  I  haven't  had  time  to  get  very  far  with 
my  own  tests  yet." 

"  Not  a  blessed  thing,"  returned  the  coroner. 
"  I'm  desperate.  One  of  the  chemists  suggested 
cyanide,  another  carbon  monoxide.  But  there  is  no 
trace  of  either.  Then  he  suggested  nux  vomica.  It 
wasn't  nux  vomica;  but  my  tests  show  that  it  must 
have  been  something  very  much  like  it.  I've  looked 
for  all  the  ordinary  known  poisons  and  some  of  the 
little-known  alkaloids,  but,  Kennedy,  I  always  get 
back  to  the  same  point.  There  must  have  been  a 
poison  there.  He  did  not  die  primarily  of  the 
wound.  It  was  asphyxia  due  to  a  poison  that  really 

73 


74  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

killed  him,  though  the  wound  might  have  done  so, 
but  not  quite  so  quickly." 

I  could  tell  by  the  look  that  crossed  Kennedy's 
face  that  at  last  a  ray  of  light  had  pierced  the  dark 
ness.  He  reached  for  a  bottle  on  the  shelf  labelled 
spirits  of  turpentine. 

Then  he  poured  a  little  of  the  blood  sample  from 
the  jar  which  the  coroner  had  brought  into  a  clean 
tube  and  added  a  few  drops  of  the  spirits  of  tur 
pentine.  A  cloudy,  dark  precipitate  formed.  He 
smiled  quietly,  and  said,  half  to  himself,  "  I  thought 
so." 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  the  coroner  eagerly,  "  nux 
vomica  ?  " 

Craig  shook  his  head  as  he  stared  at  the  black 
precipitate.  "  You  were  perfectly  right  about  the 
asphyxiation,  Doctor,"  he  remarked  slowly,  "  but 
wrong  as  to  the  cause.  It  was  a  poison — one  you 
would  never  dream  of." 

"  What  is  it?  "  Leslie  and  I  asked  simultaneously. 

"  Let  me  take  all  these  samples  and  make  some 
further  tests,"  he  said.  "  I  am  quite  sure  of  it,  but 
it  is  new  to  me.  By  the  way,  may  I  trouble  you  and 
Leslie  to  go  over  to  the  Museum  of  Natural  His 
tory  with  a  letter?  " 

It  was  evident  that  he  wanted  to  work  uninter 
rupted,  and  we  agreed  readily,  especially  because  by 
going  we  might  also  be  of  some  use  in  solving  the 
mystery  of  the  poison. 

He  sat  down  and  wrote  a  hasty  note  to  the  director 
of  the  Museum,  and  a  few  moments  later  we  were 
speeding  over  in  Leslie's  car. 


THE  ARROW  POISON  75 

At  the  big  building  we  had  no  trouble  in  finding 
the  director  and  presenting  the  note.  He  was  a 
close  friend  of  Kennedy's  and  more  than  willing  to 
aid  him  in  any  way. 

"  You  will  excuse  me  a  moment?  "  he  apologized. 
"  I  will  get  from  the  South  American  exhibit  just 
what  he  wants." 

We  waited  several  minutes  in  the  office  until  finally 
he  returned  carrying  a  gourd,  incrusted  on  its  hol 
low  inside  surface  with  a  kind  of  blackish  substance. 

"  That  is  what  he  wants,  I  think,"  the  director 
remarked,  wrapping  it  up  carefully  in  a  box.  "  I 
don't  need  to  ask  you  to  tell  Professor  Kennedy 
to  watch  out  how  he  handles  the  thing.  He  under 
stands  all  about  it." 

We  thanked  the  director  and  hurried  out  into  the 
car  again,  carrying  the  package,  after  his  warning, 
as  though  it  were  so  much  dynamite. 

Altogether,  I  don't  suppose  that  we  could  have 
been  gone  more  than  an  hour. 

We  burst  into  the  laboratory,  but,  to  my  surprise, 
I  did  not  see  Kennedy  at  his  table.  I  stopped  short 
and  looked  around. 

There  he  was  over  in  the  corner,  sprawled  out  in 
a  chair,  a  tank  of  oxygen  beside  him,  from  which  he 
was  inhaling  laboriously  copious  draughts.  He  rose 
as  he  saw  us  and  walked  unsteadily  toward  the 
table. 

"  Why — what's  the  matter?  "  I  cried,  certain  that 
in  our  absence  an  attempt  had  been  made  on  his  life, 
perhaps  to  carry  out  the  threat  of  the  curse. 

"  N-nothing,"  he  gasped,  with  an  attempt  at  a 


76  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

smile.  "  Only  I — think  I  was  right — about  the 
poison." 

I  did  not  like  the  way  he  looked.  His  hand  was 
unsteady  and  his  eyes  looked  badly.  But  he  seemed 
quite  put  out  when  I  suggested  that  he  was  working 
too  hard  over  the  case  and  had  better  take  a  turn 
outdoors  with  us  and  have  a  bite  to  eat. 

"You — you  got  it?"  he  asked,  seizing  the  pack 
age  that  contained  the  gourd  and  unwrapping  it 
nervously. 

He  laid  the  gourd  on  the  table,  on  which  were 
also  several  jars  of  various  liquids  and  a  number  of 
other  chemicals.  At  the  end  of  the  table  was  a  large, 
square  package,  from  which  sounds  issued,  as  if  it 
contained  something  alive. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  persisted,  "  what  has  happened. 
Has  any  one  been  here  since  we  have  been  gone  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul,"  he  answered,  working  his  arms  and 
shoulders  as  if  to  get  rid  of  some  heavy  weight  that 
oppressed  his  chest. 

"  Then  what  has  happened  that  makes  you  use  the 
oxygen?"  I  repeated,  determined  to  get  some  kind 
of  answer  from  him. 

He  turned  to  Leslie.  "  It  was  no  ordinary  asphyxi 
ation,  Doctor,"  he  said  quickly. 

Leslie  nodded.     "  I  could  see  that,"  he  admitted. 

"  We  have  to  deal  in  this  case,"  continued  Ken 
nedy,  his  will-power  overcoming  his  weakness, 
"  with  a  poison  which  is  apparently  among  the  most 
subtle  known.  A  particle  of  matter  so  minute  as  to 
be  hardly  distinguishable  by  the  naked  eye,  on  the 


THE  ARROW  POISON  77 

point  of  a  lancet  or  needle,  a  prick  of  the  skin  not 
anything  like  that  wound  of  Mendoza's,  were  neces 
sary.  But,  fortunately,  more  of  the  poison  was 
used,  making  it  just  that  much  easier  to  trace, 
though  for  the  time  the  wound,  which  might  itself 
easily  have  been  fatal,  threw  us  off  the  scent.  But 
given  these  things,  not  all  the  power  in  the  world — 
unless  one  was  fully  prepared — could  save  the  life 
of  the  person  in  whose  flesh  the  wound  was  made." 

Craig  paused  a  moment,  and  we  listened  breath 
lessly. 

"  This  poison,  I  find,  acts  on  the  so-called  end- 
plates  of  the  muscles  and  nerves.  It  produces  com 
plete  paralysis,  but  not  loss  of  consciousness,  sensa 
tion,  circulation,  or  respiration  until  the  end 
approaches.  It  seems  to  be  one  of  the  most  power 
ful  agents  of  which  I  have  ever  heard.  When  intro 
duced  in  even  a  minute  quantity  it  produces  death 
finally  by  asphyxiation — by  paralyzing  the  muscles  of 
respiration.  This  asphyxia  is  what  puzzled  you, 
Leslie." 

He  reached  over  and  took  a  white  mouse  from 
the  huge  box  on  the  corner  of  the  table. 

"  Let  me  show  you  what  I  have  found,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  now  going  to  inject  a  little  of  the  blood  serum 
of  the  murdered  man  into  this  white  mouse." 

He  took  a  needle  and  injected  some  of  a  liquid 
which  he  had  isolated.  The  mouse  did  not  even 
wince,  so  lightly  did  he  touch  it.  But  as  we  watched, 
its  life  seemed  gently  to  ebb  away,  without  pain, 
without  struggle.  Its  breath  simply  seemed  to  stop. 


78  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Next  he  took  the  gourd  which  we  had  brought 
and  with  a  knife  scraped  off  just  the  minutest  par 
ticle  of  the  black,  licorice-like  stuff  that  incrusted  it. 
He  dissolved  the  particle  in  some  alcohol,  and  with 
a  sterilized  needle  repeated  his  experiment  on  a  sec 
ond  mouse.  The  effect  was  precisely  similar  to  that 
produced  by  the  blood  on  the  first. 

I  was  intent  on  what  Craig  was  doing  when  Dr. 
Leslie  broke  in  with  a  question.  "  May  I  ask,"  he 
queried,  "  whether,  admitting  that  the  first  mouse 
died  at  least  apparently  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
second,  you  have  proved  that  the  poison  is  the  same 
in  both  cases?  And  if  it  is  the  same,  can  you  show 
that  it  affects  human  beings  in  the  same  way,  that 
enough  of  it  has  been  discovered  in  the  blood  of 
Mendoza  to  have  caused  his  death?  In  other  words, 
I  want  the  last  doubt  set  aside." 

If  ever  Craig  startled  me,  it  was  by  his  quiet 
reply : 

"  I've  isolated  it  in  his  blood,  extracted  it,  steril 
ized  it,  and  I've  tried  it  on  myself." 

In  breathless  amazement,  with  eyes  riveted  on  him, 
we  listened.  "  Then  that  was  what  was  the  mat 
ter?"  I  blurted  out.  "You  had  been  trying  the 
poison  on  yourself?  " 

He  nodded  unconcernedly.  "  Altogether,"  he  ex 
plained,  as  Leslie  and  I  listened,  speechless,  "  I  was 
able  to  recover  from  both  blood  samples  six  centi 
grams  of  the  poison.  It  is  almost  unknown.  I  could 
only  be  sure  of  what  I  discovered  by  testing  the 
physiological  effects.  I  was  very  careful.  What 


THE  ARROW  POISON  79 

else  was  there  to  do?     I  couldn't  ask  you  fellows 
to  try  it,  if  I  was  afraid." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  gasped  Leslie,  "  and  alone, 
too." 

*  You  wouldn't  have  let  me  do  it,  if  I  hadn't  got 
rid  of  you,"  he  smiled  quietly. 

Leslie  shook  his  head.  "  Tried  it  on  the  dog  and 
made  himself  the  dog! "  exclaimed  Leslie.  "  I 
need  the  credit  of  a  successful  case — but  I'll  not  take 
this  one." 

Kennedy  laughed. 

"  Starting  with  two  centigrams  of  the  stuff  as  a 
moderate  dose,"  he  pursued,  while  I  listened, 
stunned  at  his  daring,  "  I  injected  it  into  my  right 
arm  subcutaneously.  Then  I  slowly  worked  my  way 
up  to  three  and  then  four  centigrams.  You  see  what 
I  had  recovered  was  far  from  the  real  thing.  They 
did  not  seem  at  first  to  produce  any  very  appreciable 
results  other  than  to  cause  some  dizziness,  slight 
vertigo,  a  considerable  degree  of  lassitude,  and  an 
extremely  painful  headache  of  rather  unusual  dura 
tion." 

"  Good  night!  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Didn't  that  sat 
isfy  you?" 

"  Five  centigrams  considerably  improved  on  it," 
he  continued,  paying  no  attention  to  me.  "  It  caused 
a  degree  of  lassitude  and  vertigo  that  was  most  dis 
tressing,  and  six  centigrams,  the  whole  amount  which 
I  had  recovered  from  the  samples  of  blood,  gave 
me  the  fright  of  my  life  right  here  in  this  laboratory 
a  few  minutes  before  you  came  in." 


8o  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Leslie  and  I  looked  at  each  other  and  shook  our 
heads. 

"  Perhaps  I  was  not  wise  in  giving  myself  so 
large  an  injection  on  a  day  when  I  was  overheated 
and  below  par  otherwise,  because  of  the  strain  I 
have  been  under  in  handling  this  case,  as  well  as 
other  work.  However  that  may  be,  the  added  centi 
gram  produced  so  much  more  on  top  of  the  five 
centigrams  I  had  previously  taken  that  for  a  time 
I  had  reason  to  fear  that  that  additional  centigram 
was  just  the  amount  needed  to  bring  my  experiments 
to  a  permanent  close. 

"  Within  three  minutes  of  the  time  of  injection 
the  dizziness  and  vertigo  had  become  so  great  as  to 
make  walking  seem  impossible.  In  another  minute 
the  lassitude  rapidly  crept  over  me,  and  the  serious 
disturbance  of  my  breathing  made  it  apparent  to  me 
that  walking,  waving  my  arms,  anything,  was  impera 
tive.  My  lungs  felt  glued  up,  and  the  muscles  of 
my  chest  refused  to  work.  Everything  swam  before 
my  eyes,  and  I  was  soon  reduced  to  walking  up  and 
down  the  laboratory  floor  with  halting  steps,  only 
preventing  falling  on  the  floor  by  holding  fast  to  the 
edge  of  the  table. 

"  I  thought  of  the  tank  of  oxygen,  and  managed 
to  crawl  over  and  turn  it  on.  I  gulped  at  it.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  spent  hours  gasping  for  breath. 
It  reminded  me  of  what  I  once  experienced  in  the 
Cave  of  the  Winds  of  Niagara,  where  water  is 
more  abundant  in  the  atmosphere  than  air.  Yet  my 
watch  afterward  indicated  only  about  twenty  minutes 


THE  ARROW  POISON  81 

of  extreme  distress.  But  that  twenty  minutes  is 
one  period  I  shall  never  forget.  I  advise  you,  Les 
lie,  if  you  are  ever  so  foolish  as  to  try  the  experi 
ment,  to  remain  below  the  five-centigram  limit." 

"  Believe  me,  I'd  rather  lose  my  job,"  returned 
Leslie. 

"  How  much  of  the  stuff  was  administered  to 
Mendoza,"  went  on  Kennedy,  "  I  cannot  say.  But 
it  must  have  been  a  good  deal  more  than  I  took. 
Six  centigrams  which  I  recovered  from  these  small 
samples  are  only  nine-tenths  of  a  grain.  You  see 
what  effect  that  much  had.  I  trust  that  answers  your 
question?  " 

Dr.  Leslie  was  too  overwhelmed  to  reply. 

"  What  is  this  deadly  poison  that  was  used  on 
Mendoza?  "  I  managed  to  ask. 

"  You  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  a 
sample  of  it  from  the  Museum  of  Natural  His 
tory,"  returned  Craig.  "  It  comes  in  a  little  gourd, 
or  often  a  calabash.  This  is  in  a  gourd.  It  is  a 
blackish,  brittle  stuff,  incrusting  the  sides  of  the 
gourd  just  as  if  it  was  poured  in  in  the  liquid  state 
and  left  to  dry.  Indeed,  that  is  just  what  has  been 
done  by  those  who  manufacture  it  after  a  lengthy 
and  somewhat  secret  process." 

He  placed  the  gourd  on  the  edge  of  the  table, 
where  we  could  see  it  closely.  I  was  almost  afraid 
even  to  look  at  it. 

"  The  famous  traveller,  Sir  Robert  Schomburgk, 
first  brought  it  into  Europe,  and  Darwin  has  de 
scribed  it.  It  is  now  an  article  of  commerce,  and  is 


82  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

to  be  found  in  the  United  States  Pharmacoepia  as  a 
medicine,  though,  of  course,  it  is  used  in  only  very 
minute  quantities,  as  a  heart  stimulant." 

Craig  opened  a  book  to  a  place  he  had  marked. 
"  Here's  an  account  of  it,"  he  said.  "  Two  natives 
were  one  day  hunting.  They  were  armed  with 
blow-pipes  and  quivers  full  of  poisoned  darts  made 
of  thin,  charred  pieces  of  bamboo,  tipped  with  this 
stuff.  One  of  them  aimed  a  dart.  It  missed  the 
object  overhead,  glanced  off  the  tree,  and  fell  down 
on  the  hunter  himself.  This  is  how  the  other  native 
reported  the  result: 

"  *  Quacca  takes  the  dart  out  of  his  shoulder. 
Never  a  word.  Puts  it  in  his  quiver  and  throws  it 
in  the  stream.  Gives  me  his  blow-pipe  for  his  little 
son.  Says  to  me  good-bye  for  his  wife  and  the  vil 
lage.  Then  he  lies  down.  His  tongue  talks  no 
longer.  No  sight  in  his  eyes.  He  folds  his  arms. 
He  rolls  over  slowly.  His  mouth  moves  without 
sound.  I  feel  his  heart.  It  goes  fast  and  then 
slow.  It  stops.  Quacca  has  shot  his  last  woorali 
dart.'  " 

Leslie  and  I  looked  at  Kennedy,  and  the  horror 
of  the  thing  sank  deep  into  our  minds.  Woorali. 
What  was  it? 

"  Woorali,  or  curare,"  explained  Craig  slowly, 
"  is  the  well-known  poison  with  which  the  South 
American  Indians  of  the  upper  Orinoco  tip  their 
arrows.  Its  principal  ingredient  is  derived  from  the 
Strychnos  toxifera  tree,  which  yields  also  the  drug 
nux  vomica,  which  you,  Dr.  Leslie,  have  mentioned. 
On  the  tip  of  that  Inca  dagger  must  have  been  a 


THE  ARROW  POISON  83 

large  dose  of  the  dread  curare,  this  fatal  South 
American  Indian  arrow  poison." 

"  Say,"  ejaculated  Leslie,  "  this  thing  begins  to 
look  eerie  to  me.  How  about  that  piece  of  paper 
that  I  sent  to  you  with  the  warning  about  the  curse 
of  Mansiche  and  the  Gold  of  the  Gods.  What  if 
there  should  be  something  in  it?  I'd  rather  not  be 
a  victim  of  this  curare,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you, 
Kennedy." 

Kennedy  was  thinking  deeply.  Who  could  have 
sent  the  messages  to  us  all?  Who  was  likely  to  have 
known  of  curare?  I  confess  that  I  had  not  even 
an  idea.  All  of  them,  any  of  them,  might  have 
known. 

The  deeper  we  got  into  it,  the  more  dastardly  the 
crime  against  Mendoza  seemed.  Involuntarily,  I 
thought  of  the  beautiful  little  Sefiorita,  about  whom 
these  terrible  events  centred.  Though  I  had  no  rea 
son  for  it,  I  could  not  forget  the  fear  that  she  had 
for  Senora  de  Moche,  and  the  woman  as  she  had 
been  revealed  to  us  in  our  late  interview. 

"  I  suppose  a  Peruvian  of  average  intelligence 
might  know  of  the  arrow  poison  of  Indians  of  an 
other  country,"  I  ventured  to  Craig. 

"  Quite  possible,"  he  returned,  catching  immedi 
ately  the  drift  of  my  thoughts.  "  But  the  shoe- 
prints  indicated  that  it  was  a  man  who  stole  the 
dagger  from  the  Museum.  It  may  be  that  it  was 
already  poisoned,  too.  In  that  case  the  thief  would 
not  have  had  to  know  anything  of  curare,  would  not 
have  needed  to  stab  so  deeply  if  he  had  known." 

I  must  confess  that  I  was  little  further  along  in  the 


84  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

solution  of  the  mystery  than  I  had  been  when  I  first 
saw  Mendoza's  body.  Kennedy,  however,  did  not 
seem  to  be  worried.  Leslie  had  long  since  given  up 
trying  to  form  an  opinion  and,  now  that  the  nature 
of  the  poison  was  finally  established,  was  glad  to 
leave  the  case  in  our  hands. 

As  for  me,  I  was  inclined  to  agree  with  Dr.  Les 
lie,  and,  long  after  he  had  left,  there  kept  recurring 
to  my  mind  those  words : 

BEWARE  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE  ON  THE  GOLD 
OF  THE  GODS. 


VIII 
THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER 

"  T  THINK  I  will  drop  in  to  see  Senorita  Men- 

J.  doza,"  considered  Kennedy,  as  he  cleared  up 
the  materials  which  he  had  been  using  in  his  inves 
tigation  of  the  arrow  poison.  "  She  is  a  study  to 
me — in  fact,  the  reticence  of  all  these  people  is  hard 
to  combat." 

As  we  entered  the  apartment  where  the  Mendozas 
lived,  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  only  a  few  hours 
had  elapsed  since  we  had  first  been  introduced  to 
this  strange  affair.  In  the  hall,  however,  were  still 
some  reporters  waiting  in  the  vain  hope  that  some 
fragment  of  a  story  might  turn  up. 

"  Let's  have  a  talk  with  the  boys,"  suggested 
Craig,  before  we  entered  the  Mendoza  suite. 
"  After  all,  the  newspaper  men  are  the  best  detec 
tives  I  know.  If  it  wasn't  for  them,  half  our  mur 
der  cases  wouldn't  ever  be  solved.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  '  yellow  journals '  are  more  useful  to  a  city 
than  half  the  detective  force." 

Most  of  the  newspaper  men  knew  Craig  inti 
mately,  and  liked  him,  possibly  because  he  was  one 
of  the  few  people  to-day  who  realized  the  very  im 
portant  part  these  young  men  played  in  modern  life. 
They  crowded  about,  eager  to  interview  him.  But 

85 


86  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Craig  was  clever.  In  the  rapid  fire  of  conversation 
it  was  really  he  who  interviewed  them. 

"  Lockwood  has  been  here  a  long  time,"  volun 
teered  one  of  the  men.  "  He  seems  to  have  con 
stituted  himself  the  guardian  of  Inez.  No  one  gets 
a  look  at  her  while  he's  around." 

"  Well,  you  can  hardly  blame  him  for  that," 
smiled  Craig.  "  Jealousy  isn't  a  crime  in  that 
case." 

"  Say,"  put  in  another,  "  there'd  be  an  interesting 
quarter  of  an  hour  if  he  were  here  now.  That  other 
fellow — de  Mooch — whatever  his  name  is,  is  here." 

"  De  Moche — with  her,  now?  "  queried  Kennedy, 
wheeling  suddenly. 

The  reporter  smiled.  "  He's  a  queer  duck.  I 
was  coming  up  to  relieve  our  other  man,  when  I 
saw  him  down  on  the  street,  hanging  about  the  cor 
ner,  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  entrance  to  the  apart 
ment.  I  suppose  that  was  his  way  of  making  love. 
He's  daffy  over  her,  all  right.  I  stopped  to  watch 
him.  Of  course,  he  didn't  know  me.  Just  then 
Lockwood  left.  The  Spaniard  dived  into  the  drug 
store  on  the  corner  as  though  the  devil  was  after 
him.  You  should  have  seen  his  eyes.  If  looks  were 
bullets,  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  Lockwood's  life. 
With  two  such  fellows  about,  you  wouldn't  catch 
me  making  goo-goo  eyes  at  that  chicken — not  on 
your  life." 

Kennedy  passed  over  the  flippant  manner  in  view 
of  the  importance  of  the  observation. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Lockwood?  "  he  asked. 


THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER          87 

"  Pretty  slick,"  replied  another  of  the  men. 
"  He's  the  goods,  all  right." 

'  Why,  what  has  he  done?  "  asked  Kennedy. 

"  Nothing  in  particular.  But  he  came  out  to  see 
us  once.  You  can't  blame  him  for  being  a  bit  sore 
at  us  fellows  hanging  about.  But  he  didn't  show  it. 
Instead  he  almost  begged  us  to  be  careful  of  how 
we  asked  questions  of  the  girl.  Of  course,  all  of  us 
could  see  how  completely  broken  up  she  is.  We 
haven't  bothered  her.  In  fact,  we'd  do  anything  we 
could  for  her.  But  Lockwood  talks  straight  from 
the  shoulder.  You  can  see  he's  used  to  handling  all 
kinds  of  situations." 

"  But  did  he  say  anything,  has  he  done  anything?  " 
persisted  Kennedy. 

"  N-no,"  admitted  the  reporter.  "  I  can't  say  he 
has." 

Craig  frowned  a  bit.  "  I  thought  not,"  he  re 
marked.  "  These  people  aren't  giving  away  any 
hints,  if  they  can  help  it." 

"  It's  my  idea,"  ventured  another  of  the  men, 
"  that  when  this  case  breaks,  it  will  break  all  of  a 
sudden.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  are  in  for  one 
of  the  sensations  of  the  year,  when  it  comes." 

Kennedy  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  "  Why?  "  he 
asked  simply. 

"  No  particular  reason,"  confessed  the  man. 
"  Only  the  regular  detectives  act  so  chesty.  They 
haven't  got  a  thing,  and  they  know  it,  only  they 
won't  admit  it  to  us.  O'Connor  was  here." 

"What  did  he  say?" 


88  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Nothing.  He  went  through  all  the  mo 
tions '  Now,  pens  lifted,  boys,'  and  all  that — 

talked  a  lot — and  after  it  was  all  over  he  might  have 
been  sure  no  one  would  publish  a  line  of  his  con 
fidences.  There  wasn't  a  stick  of  copy  in  the  whole 
thing." 

Kennedy  laughed.  "  O'Connor's  all  right,"  he 
replied.  "  We  may  need  him  sorely  before  we  get 
through.  After  all,  nothing  can  take  the  place  of 
the  organization  the  police  have  built  up.  You  say 
de  Moche  is  in  there  yet?  " 

"  Yes.  He  seemed  very  anxious  to  see  her.  We 
never  get  a  word  out  of  him.  I've  been  thinking 
what  would  happen  if  we  tried  to  get  him  mad. 
Maybe  he'd  talk." 

"  More  likely  he'd  pull  a  gun,"  cautioned  an 
other.  "  Excuse  me." 

Kennedy  said  nothing,  evidently  content  to  let  the 
newspaper  men  go  their  own  sweet  way. 

He  nodded  to  them,  and  pressed  the  buzzer  at  the 
Mendoza  door. 

"  Tell  Senorita  Mendoza  that  it  is  Professor 
Kennedy,"  he  said  to  Juanita,  who  opened  the  door, 
keeping  it  on  the  chain,  to  be  sure  it  was  no  unwel 
come  intruder. 

Evidently  she  had  had  orders  to  admit  us,  for  a 
second  later  we  found  ourselves  again  in  the  little 
reception  room. 

We  sat  down,  and  I  saw  that  Craig's  attention 
had  at  once  been  fixed  on  something.  I  listened  in 
tently,  too.  On  the  other  side  of  the  heavy  por- 


THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER          89 

tieres  that  cut  us  off  from  the  living  room  I  could 
distinguish  low  voices.  It  was  de  Moche  and  Inez. 

Whatever  the  ethics  of  it,  we  could  not  help  lis 
tening.  Besides  there  was  more  at  stake  than  ethics. 

Evidently  the  young  man  was  urging  her  to  do 
something  that  she  did  not  agree  with. 

"  No,"  we  heard  her  say  finally,  in  a  quiet  tone, 
"  I  cannot  believe  it,  Alfonso.  Mr.  Whitney  is  Mr. 
Lockwood's  associate  now.  My  father  and  Mr. 
Lockwood  approved  of  him.  Why  should  I  do 
otherwise?  " 

De  Moche  was  talking  earnestly  but  in  a  very 
muffled  voice.  We  could  not  make  out  anything 
except  a  few  scattered  phrases  which  told  us  noth 
ing.  Once  I  fancied  he  mentioned  his  mother. 
Whatever  it  was  that  he  was  urging,  Inez  was  firm. 

"  No,  Alfonso,"  she  repeated,  her  voice  a  little 
higher  and  excited.  "  It  cannot  be.  You  must  be 
mistaken." 

She  had  risen,  and  now  moved  toward  the  hall 
door,  evidently  forgetting  that  the  folding  doors  be 
hind  the  portieres  were  open.  "  Professor  Kennedy 
and  Mr.  Jameson  are  here,"  she  said.  "  Would  you 
care  to  meet  them?  " 

He  replied  in  the  negative.  Yet  as  he  passed  the 
reception  room  he  could  not  help  seeing  us. 

As  Inez  greeted  us,  I  saw  that  Alfonso  was  mak 
ing  a  desperate  effort  to  control  his  expression.  He 
seemed  to  be  concealing  a  bitter  disappointment. 
Seeing  us,  he  bowed  stiffly,  and,  with  just  the  mur 
mur  of  a  greeting,  excused  himself. 


90  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

He  had  no  sooner  closed  the  door  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  the  sharp  eyes  in  the  hall  than  the 
Senorita  faced  us  fully.  She  was  pale  and  nervous. 
Evidently  something  that  he  had  said  to  her  had 
greatly  agitated  her.  Yet  with  all  her  woman's  skill 
she  managed  to  hide  all  outward  traces  of  emotion 
that  might  indicate  what  it  was  that  racked  her 
mind. 

"You  have  something  to  report?"  she  asked,  a 
trifle  anxiously. 

"  Nothing  of  any  great  importance,"  admitted 
Craig. 

Was  it  actually  a  look  of  relief  that  crossed  her 
face?  Try  as  I  could,  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  an 
anomalous  situation.  She  wanted  the  murderer  of 
her  father  caught,  naturally.  Yet  she  did  not  seem 
to  be  offering  us  the  natural  assistance  that  was  to 
be  expected.  Could  it  be  that  she  suspected  some  one 
perhaps  near  and  dear  to  her  of  having  some  knowl 
edge,  which,  now  that  the  deed  was  done,  would  do 
more  harm  than  good  if  revealed?  It  was  the  only 
conclusion  to  which  I  could  come.  I  was  surprised 
at  Kennedy's  next  question.  Was  the  same  idea  in 
his  mind,  also? 

"  We  have  seen  Mr.  Whitney,"  he  ventured. 
"  Just  what  are  Mr.  Lockwood's  relations  with  him 
— and  yours?  " 

"  Merely  that  Mr.  Lockwood  and  my  father  were 
partners,"  she  answered  hastily.  "  They  had  de 
cided  that  their  interests  would  be  more  valuable  by 
some  arrangement  with  Mr.  Whitney,  who  controls 
so  much  down  in  Peru." 


THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER          91 

"  Do  you  think  that  Sefiora  de  Moche  exercises  a 
very  great  influence  on  Mr.  Whitney?  "  asked  Craig, 
purposely  introducing  the  name  of  the  Indian  woman 
to  see  what  effect  it  might  have  on  her. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  with  a  little  exclamation  of 
alarm,  "  I  hope  not." 

Yet  it  was  evident  that  she  feared  so. 

"Why  is  it  that  you  fear  it?  "  insisted  Kennedy. 
"  What  has  she  done  to  make  you  fear  it?  " 

"  I  don't  like  her,"  returned  Inez,  with  a  frown. 
"  My  father  knew  her — too  well.  She  is  a  schemer, 
an  adventuress.  Once  she  has  a  hold  on  a  man,  one 
cannot  say She  paused,  then  went  on  in  a  dif 
ferent  tone.  "  But  I  would  rather  not  talk  about 
the  woman.  I  am  afraid  of  her.  Never  does  she 
talk  to  me  that  she  does  not  get  something  out  of 
me  that  I  do  not  wish  to  tell  her.  She  is  uncanny." 

Personally,  I  could  not  blame  Inez  for  her  opin 
ion.  I  could  understand  it.  Those  often  baleful 
eyes  had  a  penetrating  power  that  one  might  easily 
fall  a  victim  to. 

"  But  you  can  trust  Mr.  Lockwood,"  he  returned. 
"  Surely  he  is  proof  against  her,  against  any 
woman." 

Inez  flushed.  It  was  evident  that  of  all  the  men 
who  were  interested  in  the  little  beauty,  Lockwood 
was  first  in  her  mind.  Yet  when  Kennedy  put  the 
question  thus  she  hesitated.  "  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  of 
course,  I  trust  him.  It  is  not  that  woman  whom  I 
fear  with  him." 

She  said  it  with  an  air  almost  of  defiance.    There 


92  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

was  some  kind  of  struggle  going  on  in  her  mind, 
and  she  was  too  proud  to  let  us  into  the  secret. 

Kennedy  rose  and  bowed.  For  the  present  he  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  if  she  would  not  let  us 
help  her  openly  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  help  her 
blindly. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  were  at  Norton's  apart 
ment,  not  far  from  the  University  campus.  He  lis 
tened  intently  as  Kennedy  told  such  parts  of  what 
we  had  done  as  he  chose.  At  the  mention  of  the 
arrow  poison,  he  seemed  startled  beyond  measure. 

"  You  are  sure  of  it?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  Positive,  now,"  reiterated  Kennedy. 

Norton's  face  was  drawn  in  deep  lines.  "  If  some 
one  has  the  secret,"  he  cried  hastily,  "  who  knows 
when  and  on  whom  next  he  may  employ  it?  " 

Coming  from  him  so  soon  after  the  same  idea  had 
been  hinted  at  by  the  coroner,  I  could  not  but  be 
impressed  by  it. 

"  The  very  novelty  of  the  thing  is  our  best  pro 
tection,"  asserted  Kennedy  confidently.  "  Once  hav 
ing  discovered  it,  if  Walter  gives  the  thing  its  proper 
value  in  the  Star,  I  think  the  criminal  will  be  un 
likely  to  try  it  again.  If  you  had  had  as  much  expe 
rience  in  crime  as  I  have  had,  you  would  see  that 
it  is  not  necessarily  the  unusual  that  is  baffling.  That 
may  be  the  surest  way  to  trace  it.  Often  it  is  be 
cause  a  thing  is  so  natural  that  it  may  be  attributed 
to  any  person  among  several,  equally  well." 

Norton  eyed  us  keenly,  and  shook  his  head.  "  You 
may  be  right,"  he  said  doubtfully.  "  Only  I  had 


THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER          93 

rather  that  this  person,  whoever  he  may  be,  had 
fewer  weapons." 

"  Speaking  of  weapons,"  broke  in  Kennedy,  "  you 
have  had  no  further  idea  of  why  the  dagger  might 
have  been  taken? " 

;'  There  seems  to  have  been  so  much  about  it  that 
I  did  not  know,"  he  returned,  "  that  I  am  almost 
afraid  to  have  an  opinion.  I  knew  that  its  three- 
sided  sheath  inclosed  a  sharp  blade,  yet  who  would 
have  dreamed  that  that  blade  was  poisoned?  " 

'  You  are  lucky  not  to  have  scratched  yourself 
with  it  by  accident  while  you  were  studying  it." 

"  Possibly  I  might  have  done  it,  if  I  had  had  it  in 
my  possession  longer.  It  was  only  lately  that  I  had 
leisure  to  study  it." 

"  You  knew  that  it  might  offer  some  clue  to  the 
hidden  treasure  of  Truxillo?"  suggested  Kennedy. 
"  Have  you  any  recollection  of  what  the  inscriptions 
on  it  said?  " 

"  Yes,"  returned  Norton,  "  I  had  heard  the 
rumours  about  it.  But  Peru  is  a  land  of  tales  of 
buried  treasure.  No,  I  can't  say  that  I  paid  much 
more  attention  to  it  than  you  might  have  done  if 
some  one  asserted  that  he  had  another  story  of  the 
treasure  of  Captain  Kidd.  I  must  confess  that  only 
when  the  thing  was  stolen  did  I  begin  to  wonder 
whether,  after  all,  there  might  not  be  something  in 
it.  Now  it  is  too  late  to  find  out.  From  the  moment 
when  I  found  that  it  was  missing  from  my  collec 
tion  I  have  heard  no  more  about  it  than  you  have 
found  out.  It  is  all  like  a  dream  to  me.  I  cannot 


94  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

believe  even  yet  that  a  mere  bit  of  archaeological  and 
ethnological  specimen  could  have  played  so  impor 
tant  a  part  in  the  practical  events  of  real  life." 

"  It  does  seem  impossible,"  agreed  Kennedy. 
"  But  it  is  even  more  remarkable  than  that.  It  has 
disappeared  without  leaving  a  trace,  after  having 
played  its  part." 

"  If  it  had  been  a  mere  robbery,"  considered  Nor 
ton,  "  one  might  look  for  its  reappearance,  I  sup 
pose,  in  the  curio  shops.  For  to-day  thieves  have  a 
keen  appreciation  of  the  value  of  such  objects.  But, 
now  that  you  have  unearthed  its  use  against  Men- 
doza — and  in  such  a  terrible  way — it  is  not  likely 
that  that  will  be  what  will  happen  to  it.  No,  we 
must  look  elsewhere." 

"  I  thought  I  would  tell  you,"  concluded  Kennedy, 
rising  to  go.  "  Perhaps  after  you  have  considered  it 
over  night  some  idea  may  occur  to  you." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Norton  doubtfully.  "  But  I 
haven't  your  brilliant  faculty  of  scientific  analysis, 
Kennedy.  No,  I  shall  have  to  lean  on  you,  in  that, 
not  you  on  me." 

We  left  Norton,  apparently  now  more  at  sea  than 
ever.  At  the  laboratory  Kennedy  plunged  into  some 
microphotographic  work  that  the  case  had  suggested 
to  him,  while  I  dashed  off,  under  his  supervision,  an 
account  of  the  discovery  of  curare,  and  telephoned  it 
down  to  the  Star  in  time  to  catch  the  first  morning 
edition,  in  the  hope  that  it  might  have  some  effect 
in  apprising  the  criminal  that  we  were  hard  on  his 
trail,  which  he  had  considered  covered. 


THE  ANONYMOUS  LETTER          95 

I  scanned  the  other  papers  eagerly  in  the  morn 
ing  for  Kennedy,  hoping  to  glean  at  least  some  hints 
that  others  who  were  working  on  the  case  might 
have  gathered.  But  there  was  nothing,  and,  after 
a  hasty  bite  of  breakfast,  we  hurried  back  to  take 
up  the  thread  of  the  investigation  where  we  had 
laid  it  down. 

To  our  surprise,  on  the  steps  of  the  Chemistry 
Building,  as  we  approached,  we  saw  Inez  Mendoza 
already  waiting  for  us  in  a  high  state  of  agitation. 
Her  face  was  pale,  and  her  voice  trembled  as  she 
greeted  us. 

"  Such  a  dreadful  thing  has  come  to  me,"  she 
cried,  even  before  Kennedy  could  ask  her  what  the 
trouble  was. 

From  her  handbag  she  drew  out  a  crumpled,  dirty 
piece  of  paper  in  an  envelope. 

"  It  came  in  the  first  mail,"  she  explained.  "  I 
could  not  wait  to  send  it  to  you.  I  brought  it  myself. 
What  can  it  mean?  " 

Kennedy  unfolded  the  paper.  Printed  in  large 
characters,  in  every  way  similar  to  the  four  warn 
ings  that  had  been  sent  to  us,  was  just  one  ominous 
line.  We  read: 

"  Beware  the  man  who  professes  to  be  a  friend  of 
your  father." 

I  glanced  from  the  note  to  Kennedy,  then  to  Inez. 
One  name  was  in  my  mind,  and  before  I  knew  it  I 
had  spoken  it. 

"  Lockwood?  "  I  queried  inadvertently. 

Her  eyes  met  mine  in  sharp  defiance.     "  Impos- 


96  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

sible,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  some  one  trying  to 
injure  him  with  me.  Beware  of  Mr.  Lockwood? 
How  absurd !  " 

Yet  it  must  have  meant  Lockwood.  No  one  else 
could  have  been  meant.  It  was  he,  most  of  all,  who 
might  be  called  a  friend  of  her  father.  She  seemed 
to  see  the  implication  without  a  word  from  us. 

I  could  not  help  sympathizing  with  the  brave  girl 
in  her  struggle  between  the  attack  against  Lockwood 
and  her  love  and  confidence  in  him.  It  did  not  need 
words  to  tell  me  that  evidence  must  be  overwhelm 
ing  to  convince  her  that  her  lover  might  be  involved 
in  any  manner. 


IX 
THE  PAPER  FIBRES 

KENNEDY  examined  the  anonymous  letter 
carefully  for  several  minutes,  while  we 
watched  him  in  silence. 

"  Too  clever  to  use  a  typewriter,"  he  remarked, 
still  regarding  the  note  through  the  lens  of  a  hand 
glass.  "  Almost  any  one  would  have  used  a  ma 
chine.  That  would  have  been  due  to  the  erroneous 
idea  that  typewriting  cannot  be  detected.  The  fact 
is  that  the  typewriter  is  perhaps  a  worse  means  of 
concealing  identity  than  is  disguised  handwriting, 
especially  printing  like  this.  It  doesn't  afford  the 
effective  protection  to  the  criminal  that  one  supposes. 
On  the  contrary,  the  typewriting  of  such  a  note  may 
be  the  direct  means  by  which  it  can  be  traced  to  its 
source.  We  can  determine  what  kind  of  machine 
it  was  done  with,  then  what  particular  machine  was 
used  can  be  identified." 

He  paused  and  indicated  a  number  of  little  in 
struments  which  he  had  taken  from  a  drawer  and 
laid  on  the  table,  as  he  tore  off  a  bit  of  the  corner 
of  the  sheet  of  paper  and  examined  it. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  can  do  now,  though,"  he 
continued.  "  I  can  study  the  quality  of  the  paper 
in  this  sheet.  If  it  were  only  torn  like  those  warn 
ings  we  have  already  received,  it  might  perhaps  be 

97 


9 8  THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

mated  with  another  piece  as  accurately  as  if  the  act 
had  been  performed  before  our  eyes." 

He  picked  up  a  little  instrument  with  a  small 
curved  arm  and  a  finely  threaded  screw  that  brought 
the  two  flat  surfaces  of  the  arm  and  the  end  of  the 
screw  together. 

"  There  is  no  such  good  fortune  in  this  case,  how 
ever,"  he  resumed,  placing  the  paper  between  the 
two  small  arms.  "  But  by  measurements  made  by 
this  vernier  micrometer  caliper  I  can  find  the  precise 
thickness  of  the  paper  as  compared  to  the  other 
samples." 

He  turned  to  a  microscope  and  placed  the  corner 
of  the  paper  under  it.  Then  he  drew  from  the 
drawer  the  four  scraps  of  paper  which  had  already 
been  sent  to  us,  as  well  as  a  pile  of  photographs. 

"  Under  ordinary  circumstances,"  he  explained, 
"  I  should  think  that  what  I  am  doing  would  be  ut 
terly  valueless  as  a  clue  to  anything.  But  we  are 
reduced  to  the  minutiae  in  this  affair.  And  to-day 
science  is  not  ready  to  let  anything  pass  as  value 
less." 

He  continued  to  look  at  the  various  pieces  of 
paper  under  the  microscope.  "  I  find  under  micro 
scopic  examination,"  he  went  on,  addressing  Inez, 
but  not  looking  up  from  the  eye-piece  as  he  shifted 
the  papers,  "  that  the  note  you  have  received, 
Senorita  Mendoza,  is  written  on  a  rather  uncom 
mon  linen  bond  paper.  Later  I  shall  take  a  number 
of  microphotographs  of  it.  I  have  here,  also,  about 
a  hundred  microphotographs  of  the  fibres  in  other 


THE  PAPER  FIBRES  99 

kinds  of  paper,  many  of  them  bonds.  These  I  have 
accumulated  from  time  to  time  in  my  study  of  the 
subject.  None  of  them,  as  you  can  see,  shows  fibres 
resembling  this  one  in  question,  so  that  we  may  con 
clude  that  it  is  of  uncommon  quality. 

"  Here  I  have  the  fibres,  also,  of  four  pieces  of 
paper  that  have  already  figured  in  the  case.  These 
four  correspond,  as  well  as  the  indentures  of  the 
torn  edges.  As  for  the  fibres,  lest  you  should  ques 
tion  the  accuracy  of  the  method,  I  may  say  that  I 
know  of  a  case  where  a  man  in  Ger:nany  was  ar 
rested,  charged  with  stealing  a  government  bond. 
He  was  not  searched  until  later.  There  was  no  evi 
dence,  save  that  after  the  arrest  a  large  number  of 
spitballs  were  found  around  the  courtyard  under  his 
cell  window.  This  method  of  comparing  the  fibres 
of  the  regular  government  paper  was  used,  and  by  it 
the  man  was  convicted  of  stealing  the  bond.  I  think 
it  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  in  the  present  case  I  can 
see  definitely  that  not  only  the  four  pieces  of  paper 
that  bore  warnings  to  us  were  the  same  kind,  but 
that  this  whole  sheet,  with  its  anonymous  warning 
to  you,  is  also  the  same." 

Inez  Mendoza  looked  at  Kennedy  as  though  he 
possessed  some  weird  power.  Her  face,  which  had 
already  been  startled  into  an  expression  of  fear  at  his 
mention  of  Lockwood,  now  was  pale. 

"  Other  warnings?  "  she  repeated  tremulously. 

Quickly  Kennedy  explained  what  had  already  hap 
pened  to  us,  watching  the  effect  on  her  as  he  read 
of  the  curse  of  Mansiche  and  the  Gold  of  the  Gods. 


ioo         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  mastering  her  emotion  with  a 
heroic  effort,  "  I  wish  my  father  had  never  become 
mixed  up  in  the  business.  Ever  since  I  was  a  little 
girl  I  have  heard  these  vague  stories  of  the  big  fish 
and  the  little  fish,  the  treasure,  and  the  curse.  But 
I  never  thought  they -were  anything  but  fairy  tales. 
You  remember,  when  I  first  saw  you,  I  did  not  even 
tell  them  to  you." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Kennedy.  "  I  remember.  But 
had  you  no  other  reason?  Did  you,  down  in  your 
heart,  think  them  really  fairy  tales?  " 

She  shuddered.  "  Perhaps  not,"  she  murmured. 
"  But  I  have  heard  enough  of  you  detectives  to  know 
that  you  do  not  think  a  woman's  fears  exactly  evi 
dence." 

"  Still  they  might  lead  to  evidence,"  suggested 
Kennedy. 

She  looked  at  him,  more  startled  than  ever,  for 
already  he  had  given  her  a  slight  exhibition  of  his 
powers. 

"  Mr.  Kennedy,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am  positively 
afraid  of  you,  afraid  that  every  little  thing  I  do 
may  lead  to  something  I  don't  intend." 

There  was  a  frankness  about  the  remark  that 
would  have  been  flattering  from  a  man,  but  from  her 
excited  sympathy. 

"  No,"  she  went  on,  "  I  have  nothing  tangible — 
only  my  feelings.  I  fear  I  must  admit  that  my  father 
had  enemies,  though  who  they  are  I  cannot  tell  you. 
No,  it  is  all  in  my  heart — not  in  my  head.  There 
are  those  whom  I  dislike — and  there  are  those  whom 


THE  PAPER  FIBRES  101 

I  like  and  trust.  You  may  call  me  foolish,  but  I 
cannot  help  trusting — Mr.  Lockwood." 

She  had  not  meant  to  say  his  name,  and  Ken 
nedy  and  I  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  You  see?  "  she  continued.  "  Every  time  I  talk 
I  say  something,  convey  some  impression  that  is  the 
opposite  of  what  I  wish.  Oh — what  shall  I  do? 
Have  I  no  one  to  trust?  " 

She  was  crying. 

u  You  may  trust  me,  Senorita,"  said  Kennedy,  in 
a  low  tone,  pausing  before  her.  "  At  least  I  have 
no  other  interest  than  finding  the  truth  and  helping 
you.  There — there.  We  have  had  enough  to-day. 
I  cannot  ask  you  to  try  to  forget  what  has  hap 
pened.  That  would  be  impossible.  But  I  can  ask 
you,  Senorita,  to  have  faith — faith  that  it  will  all 
turn  out  better,  if  you  will  only  trust  me.  When 
you  feel  stronger — then  come  to  me.  Tell  me  your 
fears — or  not — whichever  does  you  the  most  good. 
Only  keep  your  mind  from  brooding.  Face  it  all 
as  you  know  your  father  would  have  you  do." 

Kennedy's  words  were  soothing.  He  seemed  to 
know  that  tears  were  the  safety-valve  she  needed. 

"  Mr.  Jameson  will  see  that  you  get  home  safely 
in  a  taxicab,"  he  continued.  "  You  can  trust  him 
as  you  would  myself." 

I  can  imagine  circumstances  under  which  I  would 
have  enjoyed  escorting  Inez  to  her  home,  but  to 
day  was  not  one  of  the  times.  Yet  she  seemed  so 
helpless,  so  grateful  for  everything  we  did  for  her 
that  I  did  not  need  even  the  pressure  of  her  little 


102          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

hand  as  she  hurried  into  the  apartment  from  the  car 
with  a  hasty  word  of  thanks. 

"  You  will  tell  Mr.  Kennedy — you  will  both  be — 
so  careful?  "  she  hesitated  before  leaving  me. 

I  assured  her  that  we  would,  wondering  what  she 
might  fear  for  us,  as  I  drove  away  again.  There 
did  not  happen  to  be  any  of  the  newspaper  men 
about  at  the  time,  and  I  did  not  stop. 

Back  in  the  laboratory,  I  found  Kennedy  arrang 
ing  something  under  the  rug  at  the  door  as  I  came 
up  the  hall. 

"  Don't  step  there,  Walter,"  he  cautioned. 
"  Step  over  the  rug.  I'm  expecting  visitors.  How 
was  she  when  she  arrived  home?  " 

I  told  him  of  her  parting  injunction. 

"  Not  bad  advice,"  he  remarked.  "  I  think  there's 
a  surprise  back  of  those  warnings.  They  weren't 
sent  just  for  effect." 

He  had  closed  the  door,  and  we  were  standing 
by  the  table,  looking  at  the  letters,  when  we  heard 
a  noise  at  the  door. 

It  was  Norton  again. 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  what  you  told  me  last 
night,"  he  explained,  before  Kennedy  had  a  chance 
to  tell  him  to  step  over  the  rug.  "  Has  anything 
else  happened?  " 

Kennedy  tossed  over  the  anonymous  letter,  and 
Norton  read  it  eagerly. 

"Whom  does  it  mean?"  he  asked,  quickly  glan 
cing  up,  then  adding,  "  It  might  mean  any  of  us 
who  are  trying  to  help  her." 


THE  PAPER  FIBRES  103 

"Exactly,"5  returned  Kennedy.  "Or  it  might 
be  Lockwood,  or  even  de  Moche.  By  the  way,  you 
know  the  young  man  pretty  well,  don't  you?  I 
wonder  if  you  could  find  him  anywhere  about  the 
University  this  morning  and  persuade  him  to  visit 
me?" 

"  I  will  try,"  agreed  Norton.  "  But  these  people 
are  so  very  suspicious  just  now  that  I  can't  promise." 

Norton  went  out  a  few  minutes  later  to  see  what 
he  could  do  to  locate  Alfonso,  and  Kennedy  replaced 
another  blank  sheet  of  paper  for  that  under  the 
rug  on  which  Norton  had  stepped  before  we  could 
warn  him. 

No  sooner  had  he  gone  than  Kennedy  reached  for 
the  telephone  and  called  Whitney's  office.  Lock- 
wood  was  there,  as  he  had  hoped,  and,  after  a  short 
talk,  promised  to  drop  in  on  us  later  in  the  morning. 

It  was  fully  half  an  hour  before  Norton  re 
turned,  having  finally  found  Alfonso.  De  Moche 
entered  the  laboratory  with  a  suspicious  glance 
about,  as  though  he  thought  something  might  have 
been  planted  there  for  him. 

u  I  had  a  most  interesting  talk  with  your  mother 
yesterday,"  began  Kennedy,  endeavouring  by  frank 
ness  to  put  the  young  man  at  ease.  "  And  this 
morning,  already,  Senorita  Mendoza  has  called  on 
me." 

De  Moche  was  all  attention  at  the  words.  But 
before  he  could  say  anything  Kennedy  handed  him 
the  anonymous  letter.  He  read  it,  and  his  face 
clouded  as  he  handed  it  back. 


io4         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  You  have  no  idea  who  could  have  sent  such  a 
note?"  queried  Craig,  "or  to  whom  it  might 
refer?" 

He  glanced  at  Norton,  then  at  us.  It  was  clear 
that  some  sort  of  suspicion  had  flashed  over  him. 
"  No,"  he  said  quickly,  "  I  know  no  one  who  could 
have  sent  it." 

"  But  whom  does  it  mean?  "  asked  Kennedy,  hold 
ing  him  to  the  part  that  he  avoided. 

The  young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  She 
has  many  friends,"  he  answered  simply. 

"  Yes,"  persisted  Kennedy,  "  but  few  against 
whom  she  might  be  warned  in  this  way.  You  do  not 
think  it  is  Professor  Norton,  for  instance — or  my 
self?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no — hardly,"  he  replied,  then  stopped, 
realizing  that  he  had  eliminated  all  but  Lockwood, 
Whitney,  and  himself. 

"It  could  not  be  Mr.  Lockwood?"  demanded 
Craig. 

"  Who  sent  it?  "  he  asked,  looking  up. 

"  No — whom  it  warns  against." 

De  Moche  had  known  what  Kennedy  meant,  but 
had  preferred  to  postpone  the  answer.  It  was  na 
tive  never  to  come  to  the  point  unless  he  was  forced 
to  do  so.  He  met  our  eyes  squarely.  He  had  not 
the  penetrating  power  that  his  mother  possessed, 
yet  his  was  a  sharp  faculty  of  observation. 

"  Mr.  Lockwood  is  very  friendly  with  her,"  he 
admitted,  then  seemed  to  think  something  else  nec 
essary  to  round  out  the  idea.  "  Mr.  Kennedy,  I 


THE  PAPER  FIBRES  105 

might  have  told  her  the  same  myself.  Senorita  Men- 
doza  has  been  a  very  dear  friend — for  a  long  time." 

I  had  been  so  used  to  having  him  evasive  that  now 
I  did  not  exactly  know  what  to  make  of  such  a  burst 
of  confidence.  It  was  susceptible  of  at  least  two 
interpretations.  Was  he  implying  that  it  was  sent 
to  cast  suspicion  on  him,  because  he  felt  that  way 
himself  or  because  he  himself  was  her  friend? 

"  There  have  been  other  warnings,"  pursued 
Kennedy,  "  both  to  myself  and  Mr.  Jameson,  as  well 
as  Professor  Norton  and  Dr.  Leslie.  Surely  you 
must  have  some  idea  of  the  source." 

De  Moche  shook  his  head.  "  None  that  I  can 
think  of,"  he  replied.  "  Have  you  asked  my 
mother?" 

"  Not  yet,"  admitted  Kennedy. 

De  Moche  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  I  have  a  lec 
ture  at  this  hour,"  he  remarked,  evidently  glad  of 
an  excuse  to  terminate  the  interview. 

As  he  left,  Kennedy  accompanied  him  to  the  door, 
careful  himself  to  step  over  the  mat. 

"Hello,  what's  new?"  we  heard  a  voice  in  the 
hall. 

It  was  Lockwood,  who  had  come  up  from  down 
town.  Catching  sight  of  de  Moche,  however,  he 
stopped  short.  The  two  young  men  met  face  to  face. 
Between  them  passed  a  glance  of  unconcealed  hostil 
ity,  then  each  nodded  stiffly. 

De  Moche  turned  to  Kennedy  as  he  passed  down 
the  hall.  "  Perhaps  it  may  have  been  sent  to  divert 
suspicion — who  can  tell?  "  he  whispered. 


io6          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Kennedy  nodded  appreciatively,  noting  the 
change. 

At  the  sound  of  Lockwood's  voice  both  Norton 
and  I  had  taken  a  step  further  after  them  out  into 
the  hall,  Norton  somewhat  in  advance.  As  de 
Moche  disappeared  for  his  lecture,  Kennedy  turned 
to  me  from  Lockwood  and  caught  my  eye.  I  read 
in  his  glance  that  fell  from  me  to  the  mat  that  he 
wished  me  quietly  to  abstract  the  piece  of  paper 
which  he  had  placed  under  it.  I  bent  down  and  did 
so  without  Lockwood  seeing  me. 

"  Why  was  he  here?  "  demanded  Lockwood,  with 
just  a  trace  of  defiance  in  his  voice,  as  though  he 
fancied  the  meeting  had  been  framed. 

"  I  have  been  showing  this  to  every  one  who 
might  help  me,"  returned  Kennedy,  going  back  into 
the  laboratory  after  giving  me  an  opportunity  to  dis 
pose  of  the  shoe-prints. 

He  handed  the  anonymous  letter  and  the  other 
warnings  to  the  young  soldier  of  fortune,  with  a 
brief  explanation. 

"  Why  don't  they  come  out  into  the  open,  who 
ever  they  are?"  commented  Lockwood,  laying  the 
papers  down  carelessly  again  on  the  table.  "  I'll 
meet  them — if  they  mean  me." 

44  Who?  "asked  Kennedy. 

Lockwood  faced  Norton  and  ourselves. 

"  I'm  not  a  mind  reader,"  he  said  significantly. 
"  But  it  doesn't  take  much  to  see  that  some  one 
wants  to  throw  a  brick  at  me.  When  I  have  any 
thing  to  say  I  say  it  openly.  Inez  Mendoza  without 
friends  just  now  would  be  a  mark,  wouldn't  she?  " 


THE  PAPER  FIBRES  107 

His  strong  face  and  powerful  jaw  were  set  in  a 
menacing  scowl.  He  would  be  a  bold  man  who 
would  have  come  between  Lockwood  and  the  lady 
under  the  circumstances. 

'You  are  confident  of  Mr.  Whitney?"  inquired 
Kennedy. 

"  Ask  Norton,"  replied  Lockwood  briefly.  "  He 
knew  him  long  before  I  did." 

Norton  smiled  quietly.  "  Mr.  Kennedy  should 
know  what  my  opinion  of  Mr.  Whitney  is,  I  think," 
replied  Norton  confidently. 

"  I  trust  that  you  will  succeed  in  running  these 
blackmailers  down,"  pursued  Lockwood,  still  stand 
ing.  "  If  I  did  not  have  more  than  I  can  attend  to 
already  since  the  murder  of  Mendoza  I'd  like  to 
take  a  hand  myself.  It  begins  to  look  to  me,  after 
reading  that  letter,  as  though  there  was  nothing  too 
low  for  them  to  attempt.  I  shall  keep  this  latest 
matter  in  mind.  If  either  Mr.  Whitney  or  myself 
get  any  hint,  we'll  turn  it  over  to  you." 

Norton  left  shortly  after  Lockwood,  and  Ken 
nedy  again  picked  up  the  letter  and  scanned  it.  "  I 
could  learn  something,  I  suppose,  if  I  analyzed  this 
printing,"  he  considered,  "  but  it  is  a  tedious  process. 
Let  me  see  that  envelope  again.  H-m,  postmarked 
by  the  uptown  sub-station,  mailed  late  last  night. 
Whoever  sent  it  must  have  done  so  not  very  far 
from  us  here.  Lockwood  seemed  to  take  it  as 
though  it  applied  to  himself  very  readily,  didn't  he? 
Much  more  so  than  de  Moche.  Only  for  the  fact 
that  the  fibres  show  it  to  be  on  paper  similar  to  the 
first  warnings,  I  might  have  been  inclinejd  to  doubt 


io8 

whether  this  was  bona  fide.  At  least,  the  sender 
must  realize  now  that  it  has  produced  no  appreciable 
effect — if  any  was  intended." 

Kennedy's  last  remark  set  me  thinking.  Could 
some  one  have  sent  the  letter  not  to  produce  the 
effect  apparently  intended,  but  with  the  ultimate  ob 
ject  of  diverting  suspicion  from  himself  ?  Lockwood, 
at  least,  had  not  seemed  to  take  the  letter  very 
seriously. 


X 

THE  X-RAY  READER 

THINK  I'll  pay  another  visit  to  Whitney,  in 
spite  of  all  that  Norton  and  Lockwood  say 
about  him,"  remarked  Kennedy,  considering  the  next 
step  he  would  take  in  his  investigation. 

Accordingly,  half  an  hour  later  we  entered  his 
Wall  Street  office,  where  we  were  met  by  a  clerk, 
who  seemed  to  remember  us. 

"  Mr.  Whitney  is  out  just  at  present,"  he  said, 
"  but  if  you  will  be  seated  I  think  I  can  reach  him 
by  telephone." 

As  we  sat  in  the  outer  office  while  the  clerk  tele 
phoned  from  Whitney's  own  room  the  door  opened 
and  the  postman  entered  and  laid  some  letters  on  a 
table  near  us.  Kennedy  could  not  help  seeing  the 
letter  on  top  of  the  pile,  and  noticed  that  it  bore 
a  stamp  from  Peru.  He  picked  it  up  and  read  the 
postmark,  "  Lima,"  and  the  date  some  weeks  pre 
vious.  In  the  lower  corner,  underscored,  were  the 
words  "  Personal — Urgent." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  is  in  that,"  remarked 
Craig,  turning  it  over  and  over. 

He  appeared  to  be  considering  something,  for  he 
rose  suddenly,  and  with  a  nod  of  his  head  to  himself, 
as  though  settling  some  qualm  of  conscience,  shoved 
the  letter  into  his  pocket. 

109 


no         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

A  moment  later  the  clerk  returned.  "  I've  just 
had  Mr.  Whitney  on  the  wire,"  he  reported.  "  I 
don't  think  he'll  be  back  at  least  for  an  hour." 

"Is  he  at  the  Prince  Edward  Albert?"  asked 
Craig. 

"  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  clerk,  oblivious  to 
the  fact  that  we  must  have  seen  that  in  order  to 
know  the  telephone  number  he  must  have  known 
whether  Mr.  Whitney  was  there  or  elsewhere. 

"  I  shall  come  in  again,"  rejoined  Kennedy,  as 
we  bowed  ourselves  out.  Then  to  me  he  added,  "  If 
he  is  with  Senora  de  Moche  and  they  are  at  the 
Edward  Albert,  I  think  I  can  beat  him  back  with  this 
letter  if  we  hurry." 

A  few  minutes  later,  in  his  laboratory,  Kennedy 
set  to  work  quickly  over  an  X-ray  apparatus.  As  I 
watched  him,  I  saw  that  he  had  placed  the  letter 
in  it. 

"  These  are  what  are  known  as  '  low  tubes,'  "  he 
explained.  "  They  give  out  '  soft  rays.' ' 

He  continued  to  work  for  several  minutes,  then 
took  the  letter  out  and  handed  it  to  me. 

"  Now,  Walter,"  he  said  brusquely,  "  if  you  will 
just  hurry  back  down  there  to  Whitney's  office  and 
replace  that  letter,  I  think  I  will  have  something  that 
will  astonish  you — though  whether  it  will  have  any 
bearing  on  the  case  remains  to  be  seen.  At  least  I 
can  postpone  seeing  Whitney  himself  for  a  while." 

I  made  the  trip  down  again  as  rapidly  as  I  could. 
Whitney  was  not  back  when  I  arrived,  but  the  clerk 
was  there,  and  I  could  not  very  well  just  leave  the 
letter  on  the  table  again. 


THE  X-RAY  READER  in 

"  Mr.  Kennedy  would  like  to  know  when  he  can 
see  Mr.  Whitney,"  I  said,  on  the  spur  of  the  mo 
ment.  "  Can't  you  call  him  up  again?" 

The  clerk,  as  I  had  anticipated,  went  into  Whit 
ney's  office  to  telephone.  Instead  of  laying  the  let 
ter  on  the  table,  which  might  have  excited  suspicion, 
I  stuck  it  in  the  letter  slot  of  the  door,  thinking  that 
perhaps  they  might  imagine  that  it  had  caught  there 
when  the  postman  made  his  rounds. 

A  moment  later  the  clerk  returned.  "  Mr.  Whit 
ney  is  on  his  way  down  now,"  he  reported. 

I  thanked  him,  and  said  that  Kennedy  would  call 
him  up  when  he  arrived,  congratulating  myself  on 
the  good  luck  I  had  had  in  returning  the  letter. 

"  What  is  it?  "  I  asked,  a  few  minutes  later,  when 
I  had  rejoined  Craig  in  the  laboratory. 

He  was  poring  intently  over  what  looked  like  a 
negative. 

"  The  possibility  of  reading  the  contents  of  docu 
ments  inclosed  in  a  sealed  envelope,"  he  replied,  still 
studying  the  shadowgraph  closely,  "  has  already  been 
established  by  the  well-known  English  scientist,  Dr. 
Hall  Edwards.  He  has  been  experimenting  with  the 
method  of  using  X-rays  recently  discovered  by  a  Ger 
man  scientist,  by  which  radiographs  of  very  thin 
substances,  such  as  a  sheet  of  paper,  a  leaf,  an  in 
sect's  body,  may  be  obtained.  These  thin  substances, 
through  which  the  rays  used  formerly  to  pass  with 
out  leaving  an  impression,  can  now  be  easily  radio 
graphed." 

I  looked  carefully  as  he  traced  out  something  on 
the  queer  negative.  On  it,  it  was  easily  possible, 


ii2          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

following  his  guidance,  to  read  the  words  inscribed 
on  the  sheet  of  paper  inside.  So  admirably  defined 
were  all  the  details  that  even  the  gum  on  the  en 
velope  and  the  edges  of  the  sheet  of  paper  inside 
the  envelope  could  be  distinguished. 

"  It  seems  incredible,"  I  exclaimed,  scarcely  be 
lieving  what  I  actually  saw.  "  It  is  almost  like  second 
sight." 

Kennedy  smiled.  "  Any  letter  written  with  ink 
having  a  mineral  base  can  be  radiographed,"  he 
added.  "  Even  when  the  sheet  is  folded  in  the  usual 
way,  it  is  possible,  by  taking  a  radiograph,  as  I 
have  done,  stereoscopically.  Then  every  detail  can 
be  seen  standing  out  in  relief.  Besides,  it  can  be 
greatly  magnified,  which  aids  in  deciphering  it  if  it 
is  indistinct  or  jumbled  up.  Some  of  it  looks  like 
mirror-writing.  Ah,"  he  continued,  "  here's  some 
thing  interesting." 

Together  we  managed  to  trace  out  the  contents  of 
several  paragraphs  laboriously,  the  gist  of  which  I 
give  here : 

"  LIMA,  PERU. 
"  DEAR  WHITNEY  : 

"  Matters  are  progressing  very  favorably  here, 
considering  the  stoppage  of  business  due  to  the  war. 
I  am  doing  everything  in  my  power  to  conserve  our 
interests,  and  now  and  then,  owing  to  the  scarcity  of 
money,  am  able  to  pick  up  a  concession  cheaply, 
which  will  be  of  immense  value  to  us  later. 

"  However,  it  is  not  so  much  of  business  that  I 


THE  X-RAY  READER  113 

wish  to  write  you  at  the  present  time.  You  know 
that  my  friend  Sefiora  de  Moche,  with  her  son,  Al 
fonso,  is  at  present  in  New  York.  Doubtless  she  has 
already  called  on  you  and  tried  to  interest  you  in  her 
own  properties  here.  I  need  not  advise  you  to  be 
very  careful  in  dealing  with  her. 

"  The  other  day  I  heard  a  rumour  that  may 
prove  interesting  to  you,  regarding  Norton  and  his 
work  here  on  his  last  trip.  As  we  know,  he  has 
succeeded  in  finding  and  getting  out  of  the  country 
an  Inca  dagger  which,  I  believe,  bears  a  very  impor 
tant  inscription.  I  do  not  know  anything  definite 
about  it,  as  these  people  are  very  reticent.  But  no 
doubt  he  has  told  you  all  about  it  by  this  time.  If  it 
should  prove  of  value,  I  depend  on  you  to  let  me 
know,  so  that  I  may  act  at  this  end  accordingly. 

"  What  I  am  getting  at  is  this :  I  understand  that 
from  rumours  and  remarks  of  the  Sefiora  she  be 
lieves  that  Norton  took  an  unfair  advantage  during 
her  absence.  What  the  inscription  is  I  don't  know, 
but  from  the  way  these  people  down  here  act  one 
would  think  that  they  all  had  a  proprietary  interest 
in  the  relic.  What  it  is  all  about  I  don't  know. 
But  you  will  find  the  Sefiora  both  a  keen  business 
woman  and  an  accomplished  antiquarian,  if  you  have 
not  already  discovered  it. 

"  In  regard  to  Lockwood  and  Mendoza,  if  we  can 
get  them  in  on  our  side,  it  ought  to  prove  a  win 
ning  combination.  There  are  stories  here  of  how 
de  Moche  has  been  playing  on  Mendoza's  passions — 
she's  thoroughly  unscrupulous  and  Don  Luis  is  some- 


ii4         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

what  of  a  Don  Juan.  I  write  this  to  put  you  on 
guard.  Her  son,  Alfonso,  whom  you  perhaps  have 
met  also,  is  of  another  type,  though  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  he  laid  siege  to  Inez  Mendoza  in  the  hope 
of  becoming  allied  with  one  of  the  oldest  families. 

"  Such,  at  least,  is  the  gossip  down  here.  I  can 
not  presume  to  keep  you  posted  at  such  a  distance, 
but  thought  I  had  better  write  what  is  in  every  one's 
mouth.  As  for  the  inscribed  dagger  which  Norton 
has  taken  with  him,  I  rely  on  you  to  inform  me. 
There  seems  to  be  a  great  deal  of  mystery  con 
nected  with  it,  and  I  am  unable  even  to  hazard  a 
guess  as  to  its  nature.  Fortunately,  you  are  on  the 
spot. 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"  HAGGERTY." 

"  So,"  remarked  Kennedy,  as  he  read  over  the 
translation  of  the  skiagraph  which  he  had  jotted 
down  as  we  picked  out  the  letters  and  words,  "  that's 
how  the  land  lies.  Everybody  seems  to  have  appre 
ciated  the  importance  of  the  dagger." 

"  Except  Norton,"  I  could  not  help  putting  in  in 
disgust. 

"  And  now  it's  gone,"  he  continued,  "  just  as 
though  some  one  had  dropped  it  overboard.  I  be 
lieve  I  will  keep  that  appointment  you  made  for  me 
with  Whitney,  after  all." 

Thus  it  happened  that  I  found  myself  a  third  time 
entering  Whitney's  building.  I  was  about  to  step 
into  the  elevator,  when  Kennedy  tugged  at  my  arm 
and  pulled  me  back. 


THE  X-RAY  READER  115 

"  Hello,  Norton,"  I  heard  him  say,  as  I  turned 
and  caught  sight  of  the  archaeologist  just  leaving  an 
elevator  that  had  come  down. 

Norton's  face  plainly  showed  that  he  was  wor 
ried. 

"  What  the  matter?  "  asked  Kennedy,  putting  the 
circumstances  together.  "  What  has  Whitney  been 
doing?" 

Norton  seemed  reluctant  to  talk,  but  having  no 
alternative  motioned  to  us  to  step  aside  in  the  cor 
ridor. 

"  It's  the  first  time  I've  talked  with  him  since  the 
dagger  was  stolen — that  is,  about  the  loss,"  he  said 
nervously.  "  He  called  me  up  half  an  hour  ago  and 
asked  me  to  come  down." 

I  looked  at  Kennedy  significantly.  Evidently  it 
must  have  been  just  after  his  return  to  the  office  and 
receipt  of  the  letter  which  I  had  stuck  in  the  letter 
slot. 

"  He  was  very  angry  over  something,"  continued 
Norton.  "  I'm  sure  it  was  not  my  fault  if  the  dagger 
was  stolen,  and  I'm  sure  that  managing  an  expedi 
tion  in  that  God-forsaken  country  doesn't  give  you 
time  to  read  every  inscription,  especially  when  it  is 
almost  illegible,  right  on  the  spot.  There  was  work 
enough  for  months  that  I  brought  back,  along  with 
that.  Sometimes  Whitney's  unreasonable." 

"  You  don't  think  he  could  have  known  something 
about  the  dagger  all  along?  "  ventured  Craig. 

Norton  puckered  his  eyes.  "  He  never  said  any 
thing,"  he  replied.  "  If  he  had  asked  me  to  drop 
other  things  for  that,  why,  of  course,  I  would  have 


n6         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

done  so.  We  can't  afford  to  lose  him  as  a  con 
tributor  to  the  exploration  fund.  Confound  it — I'm 
afraid  I've  put  my  foot  in  it  this  time." 

Kennedy  said  nothing,  and  Norton  continued, 
growing  more  excited:  "Everybody's  been  talking 
to  Whitney,  telling  him  all  kinds  of  things — Lock- 
wood,  the  de  Moches,  heaven  knows  who  else.  Why 
don't  they  come  out  and  face  me?  I've  a  notion  to 
try  to  carry  on  my  work  independently.  Nothing 
plays  hob  with  scholarship  like  money.  You'd  think 
he  owned  me  body  and  soul,  and  the  collection,  too, 
if  you  heard  him  talk.  Why,  he  accused  me  of  care 
lessness  in  running  the  Museum,  and  heaven  knows 
I'm  not  the  curator — I'm  not  even  the  janitor!  " 

Norton  was  excited,  but  I  could  not  help  feeling 
that  he  was  also  relieved.  "  I've  been  preparing  for 
the  time  when  I'd  have  to  cut  loose,"  he  went  on 
finally.  "  Now,  I  suppose  it  is  coming.  Ah,  well, 
perhaps  it  will  be  better — who  can  tell?  I  may  not 
do  so  much,  but  it  will  all  be  mine,  with  no  strings 
attached.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  for  the  best." 

Talking  over  his  troubles  seemed  to  do  Norton 
some  good,  for  I  am  sure  that  he  left  us  in  a  better 
frame  of  mind  than  we  had  found  him. 

Kennedy  wished  him  good-luck,  and  we  again 
entered  the  lift. 

We  found  Whitney  in  an  even  greater  state  of 
excitement  than  Norton  had  been.  I  am  sure  that 
if  it  had  been  any  one  else  than  Kennedy  he  would 
have  thrown  him  out,  but  he  seemed  to  feel  that  he 
must  control  himself  in  our  presence. 


THE  X-RAY  READER  117 

"  What  do  you  know  about  that  fellow  Norton, 
up  at  your  place  ?  "  he  demanded,  almost  before  we 
had  seated  ourselves. 

"  A  very  hard-working,  ambitious  man  his  col 
leagues  tell  me,"  returned  Kennedy,  purposely  I 
thought,  as  if  it  had  been  a  red  rag  flaunted  before 
a  bull. 

"  Hard-working — yes,"  bellowed  Whitney.  "  He 
has  worked  me  hard.  I  send  him  down  to  Peru — 
yes,  I  put  up  most  of  the  money.  Then  what  does 
he  do?  Just  kids  me  along,  makes  me  think  he's 
accomplishing  a  whole  lot — when  he's  actually  so 
careless  as  to  let  himself  be  robbed  of  what  he  gets 
with  my  money.  I  tell  you,  you  can't  trust  any 
body.  They  all  double-cross  you.  I  swear,  I  think 
Lockwood  and  I  ought  to  go  it  alone.  I'm  glad 
I  found  that  fellow  out.  Let  himself  be  robbed — a 
fine  piece  of  work!  Why,  that  fellow  couldn't  see 
through  a  barn  door — after  the  horse  was  stolen," 
he  concluded,  mixing  his  metaphors  in  his  anger. 

"  Evidently  some  one  has  been  telling  you  some 
thing,"  remarked  Kennedy.  "  We  tried  to  see  you 
twice  this  morning,  but  couldn't  find  you." 

His  tone  was  one  calculated  to  impress  Whitney 
with  the  fact  that  he  had  been  watching  and  had 
some  idea  of  where  he  really  was.  Whitney  shot  a 
sharp  glance  at  Craig,  whose  face  betrayed  nothing. 

**  Ambitious — I  should  say  so,"  repeated  Whit 
ney,  reverting  to  Norton  to  cover  up  this  new  change 
of  the  subject.  "  Well — let  him  be  ambitious.  We 
can  get  along  without  him.  I  tell  you,  Kennedy,  no 


n8          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

one  is  indispensable.  There  is  always  some  way  tc 
get  along — if  you  can't  get  over  an  obstacle,  you  car 
get  around  it.  I'll  dispense  with  Mr.  Norton.  He's 
an  expensive  luxury,  anyhow.  I'm  just  as  well  satis 
fied." 

There  was  real  vexation  in  Whitney's  voice,  yei 
as  he  talked  he,  too,  seemed  to  cool  down.  I  coulc 
not  help  thinking  that  both  Norton  and  Whitnej 
were  perhaps  just  a  bit  glad  at  the  break.  Hac 
both  of  them  got  out  of  each  other  all  that  thej 
wanted — Norton  his  reputation  and  Whitney— 
what? 

He  cooled  down  so  rapidly  now  that  almost  I  be 
gan  to  wonder  whether  his  anger  had  been  genuine 
Did  he  know  more  about  the  dagger  than  appeared] 
Was  this  his  cover — to  disown  Norton? 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  Senora  de  Moche  is  am 
bitious  for  her  son,  too,"  remarked  Kennedy,  tena 
ciously  trying  to  force  the  conversation  into  the 
channel  he  chose. 

"How's  that?"  demanded  Whitney,  narrowing 
his  eyes  down  into  a  squint  at  Kennedy's  face,  a  pro 
ceeding  that  served  by  contrast  to  emphasize  the  ab 
normal  condition  of  the  pupils  which  I  had  alread) 
noticed  both  in  his  eyes  and  Lockwood's. 

"  I  don't  think  she'd  object  to  having  him  marrj 
into  one  of  the  leading  families  in  Peru,"  venturec 
Kennedy,  paraphrasing  what  we  had  already  read  ir 
the  letter. 

"  Perhaps  Senorita  Mendoza  herself  can  be 
trusted  to  see  to  that,"  Whitney  replied  with  a  quid 
laugh. 


THE  X-RAY  READER  119 

"  To  say  nothing  of  Mr.  Lockwood,"  suggested 
Craig. 

Whitney  looked  at  him  quizzically,  as  though  in 
doubt  just  how  much  this  man  knew. 

"  Sefiora  de  Moche  puzzles  me,"  went  on  Ken 
nedy.  "  I  often  wonder  whether  superstition  or 
greed  would  rule  her  if  it  came  to  the  point  in  this 
matter  of  the  Gold  of  the  Gods,  as  they  all  seem 
to  call  the  buried  treasure  at  Truxillo.  She's  a  fas 
cinating  woman,  but  I  can't  help  feeling  that  with 
her  one  is  always  playing  with  fire." 

Whitney  eyed  us  knowingly.  I  had  long  ago  taken 
his  measure  as  a  man  quite  susceptible  to  a  pretty 
face,  especially  if  accompanied  by  a  well-turned 
ankle. 

"  I  never  discuss  politics  during  business  hours," 
he  laughed,  with  a  self-satisfied  air.  "  You  will  ex 
cuse  me?  I  have  some  rather  important  letters  that 
I  must  get  off." 

Kennedy  rose,  and  Whitney  walked  to  the  door 
with  us,  to  call  his  stenographer. 

We  had  scarcely  said  good-bye  and  were  about  to 
open  the  outer  door  when  it  was  pushed  open  from 
outside,  and  Lockwood  bustled  in. 

"No  more  anonymous  letters,  I  hope?"  he 
queried,  in  a  tone  which  I  could  not  determine 
whether  serious  or  sarcastic. 

Kennedy  answered  in  the  negative.  "  Not  unless 
you  have  one." 

"I?  I  rather  think  the  ready  letter-writers  know 
better  than  to  waste  time  on  me.  That  little  billet 
doux  seems  to  have  quite  upset  the  Sefiorita,  though. 


120         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

I  don't  know  how  many  times  she  has  called  me  up 
to  see  if  I  was  all  right.  I  begin  to  think  that  who 
ever  wrote  it  has  done  me  a  good  turn,  after  all." 

Lockwood  did  not  say  it  in  a  boastful  way,  but 
one  could  see  that  he  was  greatly  pleased  at  the 
solicitude  of  Inez. 

"She  thinks  it  referred  to  you,  then?"  asked 
Kennedy. 

"Evidently,"  he  replied;  then  added,  "I  won't 
say  but  that  I  have  taken  it  seriously,  too." 

He  slapped  his  hip  pocket.  Under  the  tail  of  his 
coat  bulged  a  blue-steel  automatic. 

"  You  still  have  no  idea  who  could  have  sent  it,  or 
why?" 

Lockwood  shook  his  head.  "  Whoever  he  is,  I'm 
ready,"  he  replied  grimly,  bowing  us  out. 


XI 
THE  SHOE-PRINTS 

"T'M  afraid  we've  neglected  the  Senorita  a  bit,  in 

X  our  efforts  to  follow  up  what  clues  we  have  in 
the  case,"  remarked  Kennedy,  as  we  rode  uptown 
again.  "  She  needs  all  the  protection  we  can  give 
her.  I  think  we'd  better  drop  around  there,  now 
that  she  is  pretty  likely  to  be  left  alone." 

Accordingly,  instead  of  going  back  to  the  labora 
tory,  we  dropped  off  near  the  apartment  of  the 
Mendozas  and  walked  over  from  the  subway. 

As  we  turned  the  corner,  far  down  the  long  block 
I  could  see  the  entrance  to  the  apartment. 

"  There  she  is  now,"  I  said  to  Kennedy,  catching 
sight  of  her  familiar  figure,  clad  in  sombre  black,  as 
she  came  down  the  steps.  "  I  wonder  where  she  can 
be  going." 

She  turned  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  and,  as  chance 
would  have  it,  started  in  the  opposite  direction 
from  us. 

"  Let  us  see,"  answered  Kennedy,  quickening  his 
pace. 

She  had  not  gone  very  far  before  a  man  seemed 
to  spring  up  from  nowhere  and  meet  her.  He 
bowed,  and  walked  along  beside  her. 

"  De  Moche,"  recognized  Kennedy. 

121 


122         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Alfonso  had  evidently  been  waiting  in  the  shadow 
of  an  entrance  down  the  street,  perhaps  hoping  to  see 
her,  perhaps  as  our  newspaper  friend  had  seen  before, 
to  watch  whether  Lockwood  was  among  her  callers. 
As  we  walked  along,  we  could  see  the  little  drama 
with  practically  no  fear  of  being  seen,  so  earnestly 
were  they  talking. 

Even  during  the  few  minutes  that  the  Sefiorita 
was  talking  with  him  no  one  would  have  needed  to 
be  told  that  she  really  had  a  great  deal  of  regard 
for  him,  whatever  might  be  her  feelings  toward 
Lockwood. 

"  I  should  say  that  she  wants  to  see  him,  yet  does 
not  want  to  see  him,"  observed  Kennedy,  as  we 
came  closer. 

She  seemed  now  to  have  become  restive  and  im 
patient,  eager  to  cut  the  conversation  short. 

It  was  quite  evident  at  the  same  time  that  Alfonso 
was  deeply  in  love  with  her,  that  though  she  tried 
to  put  him  off  he  was  persistent.  I  wondered 
whether,  after  all,  some  of  the  trouble  had  not  been 
that  during  his  lifetime  the  proud  old  Castilian  Don 
Luis  could  never  have  consented  to  the  marriage  of 
his  daughter  to  one  of  Indian  blood.  Had  he  left  a 
legacy  of  fear  of  a  love  forbidden  by  race  preju 
dice? 

In  any  event,  the  manner  of  Alfonso's  actions 
about  the  Mendoza  apartment  was  such  that  one 
could  easily  imagine  his  feelings  toward  Lockwood, 
whom  he  saw  carrying  off  the  prize  under  his  very 
eyes. 


THE  SHOE-PRINTS  123 

As  for  his  mother,  the  Senora,  we  had  already 
seen  that  Peruvians  of  her  caste  were  also  a  proud 
old  race.  Her  son  was  the  apple  of  her  eye.  Might 
not  some  of  her  feelings  be  readily  accounted  for? 
Who  were  these  to  scorn  her  race,  her  family? 

We  had  walked  along  at  a  pace  that  finally 
brought  us  up  with  them.  As  Kennedy  and  I  bowed, 
Alfonso  seemed  at  first  to  resent  our  intrusion,  while 
Inez  seemed  rather  to  welcome  it  as  a  diversion. 

"Can  we  not  expect  you?"  the  young  man  re 
peated.  "  It  will  be  only  for  a  few  minutes  this 
afternoon,  and  my  mother  has  something  of  very 
great  importance  to  tell." 

He  was  half  pleading,  half  apologizing.  Inez 
glanced  hastily  around  at  Kennedy,  uncertain  what 
to  say,  and  hoping  that  he  might  indicate  some 
course.  Surreptitiously,  Kennedy  nodded  an  affirma 
tive. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  she  replied  reluctantly,  not  to 
seem  to  change  what  had  been  her  past  refusal 
too  suddenly.  "  I  may  ask  Professor  Kennedy, 
too?" 

He  could  scarcely  refuse  before  us.  "  Of  course," 
he  agreed,  quickly  turning  to  us.  "  We  were  speak 
ing  about  meeting  this  afternoon  at  four  in  the  tea 
room  of  the  Prince  Edward.  You  can  come?  " 

Though  the  invitation  was  not  overgracious, 
Kennedy  replied,  "  We  should  be  delighted  to  ac 
company  Miss  Inez,  I  am  sure.  We  happened  to  be 
passing  this  way  and  thought  we  would  stop  in  to 
see  if  anything  new  had  happened.  Just  as  we  turned 


i24         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

the  corner  we  saw  you  disappearing  down  the  street, 
and  followed.  I  trust  everything  is  all  right?  " 

"  Nothing  more  has  happened  since  this  morning," 
she  returned,  with  a  look  that  indicated  she  under 
stood  that  Kennedy  referred  to  the  a-nonymous  let 
ter.  "  I  had  a  little  shopping  to  do.  If  you  will 
excuse  me,  I  think  I  will  take  a  car.  This  after 
noon — at  four." 

She  nodded  brightly  as  we  assisted  her  into  a 
taxicab  and  left  us  three  standing  there  on  the  curb. 
For  a  moment  it  was  rather  awkward.  To  Alfonso 
her  leaving  was  somewhat  as  though  the  sun  had 
passed  under  a  cloud. 

"Are  you  going  up  toward  the  University?"  in 
quired  Kennedy. 

'  Yes,"  responded  the  young  man  reluctantly. 

'  Then  suppose  we  walk.  It  would  take  only  a 
few  more  minutes,"  suggested  Kennedy. 

Alfonso  could  not  very  well  refuse,  but  started 
off  at  a  brisk  pace. 

"  I  suppose  these  troubles  interfere  seriously  with 
your  work,"  pursued  Craig,  as  we  fell  into  his 
stride. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  although  much  of  my  work 
just  now  is  only  polishing  off  what  I  have  already 
learned — getting  your  American  point  of  view  and 
methods.  You  see,  I  have  had  an  idea  that  the 
canal  will  bring  both  countries  into  much  closer  re 
lations  than  before.  And  if  you  will  not  learn  of 
us,  we  must  learn  of  you." 

"  It  is  too  bad  we  Americans  don't  take  more  in- 


THE  SHOE-PRINTS  125 

terest  in  the  countries  south  of  us,"  admitted  Craig. 
"  I  think  you  have  the  right  idea,  though.  Such  men 
as  Mr.  Whitney  are  doing  their  best  to  bring  the 
two  nations  closer  together." 

I  watched  the  effect  of  the  mention  of  Whitney's 
name.  It  seemed  distasteful,  only  in  a  lesser  degree 
than  Lockwood's. 

"  We  do  not  need  to  be  exploited,"  he  ventured. 
"  My  belief  is  that  we  should  not  attract  capital  in 
order  to  take  things  out  of  the  country.  If  we 
might  keep  our  own  earnings  and  transform  them 
into  capital,  it  would  be  better.  That  is  why  I  am 
doing  what  I  am  at  the  University." 

I  could  not  believe  that  it  explained  the  whole 
reason  for  his  presence  in  New  York.  Without  a 
doubt  the  girl  who  had  just  left  us  weighed  largely 
in  his  mind,  as  well  as  his  and  his  mother's  ambitions, 
both  personal  and  for  Peru. 

"  Quite  reasonable,"  accepted  Kennedy.  "  Peru 
for  the  Peruvians.  Yet  there  seems  to  be  such  untold 
wealth  in  the  country  that  taking  out  even  quite 
large  sums  would  not  begin  to  exhaust  the  natural 
resources." 

"  But  they  are  ours,  they  belong  to  us,"  hastened 
de  Moche,  then  caught  the  drift  of  Kennedy's  re 
marks,  and  was  on  his  guard. 

"  Buried  treasure,  like  that  which  you  call  the 
Gold  of  the  Gods,  is  always  fascinating,"  continued 
Kennedy.  "  The  trouble  with  such  easy  money, 
however,  is  that  it  tends  to  corrupt.  In  the  early 
days  history  records  its  taint.  And  I  doubt  whether 


126         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

human  nature  has  changed  much  under  the  veneer  of 
modern  civilization.  The  treasure  seems  to  leave  its 
trail  even  as  far  away  as  New  York.  It  has  at  least 
one  murder  to  its  credit  already." 

;'  There  has  been  nothing  but  murder  and  rob 
bery  from  the  time  that  the  peje  chica  was  discov 
ered,"  asserted  the  young  man  sadly.  "  You  are 
quite  right." 

'  Truly  it  would  seem  to  have  been  cursed,"  added 
Craig.  "  The  spirit  of  Mansiche  must,  indeed, 
watch  over  it  I  suppose  you  know  of  the  loss  of 
the  old  Inca  dagger  from  the  University  Museum 
and  that  it  was  that  with  which  Don  Luis  was  mur 
dered?" 

It  was  the  first  time  Kennedy  had  broached  the 
subject  to  de  Moche,  and  I  watched  closely  to  see 
what  was  its  effect. 

44  Perhaps  it  was  a  warning,"  commented  Alfonso, 
in  a  solemn  tone,  that  left  me  in  doubt  whether  it 
was  purely  superstitious  dread  or  in  the  nature  of  a 
prophecy  of  what  might  be  expected  from  some  quar 
ter  of  which  we  were  ignorant. 

"  You  have  known  of  the  existence  of  the  dagger 
always,  I  presume,"  continued  Kennedy.  "  Have 
you  or  any  one  you  know  ever  sought  to  discover  its 
secret  and  search  it  out?  " 

"  I  think  my  mother  told  you  we  never  dig  for 
treasure,"  he  answered.  "  It  would  be  sacrilegious. 
Besides,  there  is  more  treasure  buried  by  nature  than 
that  dedicated  to  the  gods.  There  is  only  one 
trouble  that  may  hurt  our  natural  resources — the 
get-rich-quick  promoter.  I  would  advise  looking  out 


THE  SHOE-PRINTS  127 

for  him.  He  flourishes  in  a  newly  opened  country 
like  Peru.  That  curse,  I  suppose,  is  much  better 
understood  by  Americans  than  the  curse  of  Man- 
siche.  But  as  for  me,  you  must  remember  that  the 
curse  is  part  of  my  religion,  as  it  were." 

We  had  reached  the  campus  by  this  time,  and 
parted  at  the  gate,  each  to  go  his  way. 

'  You  will  drop  in  on  me  if  you  hear  anything?  " 
invited  Craig. 

"  Yes,"  promised  Alfonso.  "  We  shall  see  you 
at  four." 

With  this  parting  reminder  he  turned  toward  the 
School  of  Mines  while  we  debouched  off  toward  the 
Chemistry  Building. 

"  The  de  Moches  are  nobody's  tools,"  I  remarked. 
"  That  young  man  seems  to  have  a  pretty  definite 
idea  of  what  he  wants  to  do." 

"  At  least  he  puts  it  so  before  us,"  was  all  that 
Kennedy  would  grant.  "  He  seems  to  be  as  well  in 
formed  of  what  passed  at  that  visit  to  the  Senora 
as  though  he  had  been  there  too." 

We  had  scarcely  opened  the  laboratory  door  when 
the  ringing  of  the  telephone  told  us  that  some  one 
had  been  trying  to  get  in  touch  for  some  time. 

"  It  was  Norton,"  said  Kennedy,  hanging  up  the 
receiver.  "  I  imagine  he  wants  to  know  what  hap 
pened  after  we  left  him  and  went  up  to  see  Whit 
ney." 

That  was,  in  fact,  just  what  Norton  wanted,  as 
well  as  to  make  clear  to  us  how  he  felt  on  the  sub 
ject. 

"  Really,   Kennedy,"  he  remarked,   "  it  must  be 


128          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

fine  to  feel  that  your  chair  in  the  University  is  en 
dowed  rather  than  subsidized.  You  saw  how  Whit 
ney  acted,  you  say.  Why,  he  makes  me  feel  as  if  I 
were  his  hired  man,  instead  of  head  of  the  Uni 
versity's  expedition.  I'm  glad  it's  over.  Still,  if 
you  could  find  that  dagger  and  have  it  returned  it 
might  look  better  for  me.  You  have  no  clue,  I  sup 
pose?  " 

"  I'm  getting  closer  to  one,"  replied  Craig  con 
fidently,  though  on  what  he  could  base  any  optimism 
I  could  not  see. 

The  same  idea  seemed  to  be  in  Norton's  mind. 
"  You  think  you  will  have  something  tangible  soon?  " 
he  asked  eagerly. 

"  I've  had  more  slender  threads  than  these  to 
work  on,"  reassured  Kennedy.  "  Besides,  I'm  get 
ting  very  little  help  from  any  of  you.  You  yourself, 
Norton,  at  the  start  left  me  a  good  deal  in  the  dark 
over  the  history  of  the  dagger." 

"  I  couldn't  do  otherwise,"  he  defended.  "  You 
understand  now,  I  guess,  how  I  have  always  been 
tied,  hand  and  foot,  by  the  Whitney  influence. 
You'll  find  that  I  can  be  of  more  service,  now." 

"  Just  how  did  you  get  possession  of  the  dagger?  " 
asked  Kennedy,  and  there  flashed  over  me  the  recol 
lection  of  the  story  told  by  the  Sefiora,  as  well  as 
the  letter  which  we  had  purloined. 

"  Just  picked  it  up  from  an  Indian  who  had  an 
abnormal  dislike  to  work.  They  said  he  was  crazy, 
and  I  guess  perhaps  he  was.  At  any  rate,  he  later 
drowned  himself  in  the  lake,  I  have  heard." 


THE  SHOE-PRINTS  129 

"  Could  he  have  been  made  insane,  do  you  think?  " 
ruminated  Craig.  "  It's  possible  that  he  was  the 
victim  of  somebody,  I  understand.  The  insanity 
might  have  been  real  enough  without  the  cause  being 
natural." 

"  That's  an  interesting  story,"  returned  Norton. 
"  Offhand,  I  can't  seem  to  recall  much  about  the 
fellow,  although  some  one  else  might  have  known 
him  very  well." 

Evidently  he  either  did  not  know  the  tale  as  well 
as  the  Senora,  or  was  not  prepared  to  take  us  en 
tirely  into  his  confidence. 

"Who  is  Haggerty?"  asked  Craig,  thinking  of 
the  name  signed  to  the  letter  we  had  read. 

"  An  agent  of  Whitney  and  his  associates,  who 
manages  things  in  Lima,"  explained  Norton. 
"Why?" 

"  Nothing — only  I  have  heard  the  name  and  won 
dered  what  his  connection  might  be.  I  understand 
better  now." 

Kennedy  seemed  to  be  anxious  to  get  to  work  on 
something,  and,  after  a  few  minutes,  Norton  left  us. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  than  he  took  the 
glass-bell  jar  off  his  microscope  and  drew  from  a 
table  drawer  several  scraps  of  paper  on  which  I  rec 
ognized  the  marks,  left  by  the  carbon  sheets.  He 
set  to  work  on  another  of  those  painstaking  tasks  of 
examination,  and  I  retired  to  my  typewriter,  which 
I  had  moved  into  the  next  room,  in  order  to  leave 
Kennedy  without  anything  that  might  distract  atten 
tion  from  his  work. 


130         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

One  after  another  he  examined  the  sheets  which 
he  had  marked,  starting  with  a  hand-lens  and  then 
using  one  more  powerful.  At  the  top  of  the  table 
lay  the  specially  prepared  paper  on  which  he  had 
caught  and  preserved  the  marks  in  the  dust  of  the 
Egyptian  sarcophagus  in  the  Museum. 

Besides  these  things,  I  noticed  that  he  had  in 
numerable  photographs,  many  of  which  were  la 
belled  with  the  stamp  of  the  bureau  in  the  Paris 
Palais  de  Justice,  over  which  Bertillon  had  pre 
sided. 

One  after  another  he  looked  at  the  carbon  prints, 
comparing  them  point  by  point  with  the  specially 
prepared  copy  of  the  shoe-prints  in  the  sarcophagus. 
It  was,  after  all,  a  comparatively  simple  job.  We 
had  the  prints  of  de  Moche  and  Lockwood,  as  well 
as  Whitney,  all  of  them  crossed  by  steps  from  Nor 
ton. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  "  I  heard  him 
mutter. 

I  quit  my  typewriter,  with  a  piece  of  paper  still 
in  it,  and  hurried  into  the  main  room. 

"  Have  you  found  anything?  " 

"  I  should  say  I  had,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  that 
betrayed  his  own  astonishment  at  the  find.  "  Look 
at  that,"  he  indicated  to  me,  handing  over  one  of  the 
sheets.  "  Compare  it  with  this  Museum  foot-print. 

With  his  pencil  Kennedy  rapidly  indicated  the  tell 
tale  points  of  similarity  on  the  two  shoe-prints. 

I  looked  up  at  him,  convinced  now  of  some  one's 
identity. 


THE  SHOE-PRINTS  131 

"Who  was  it?"  I  asked,  unable  to  restrain  my 
self  longer. 

Kennedy  paused  a  minute,  to  let  the  importance 
of  the  surprise  be  understood. 

"  The  man  who  entered  the  Museum  and  con 
cealed  himself  in  the  sarcophagus  in  the  Egyptian 
section  adjoining  Norton's  treasures,"  replied  Ken 
nedy  slowly,  "  was  Lockwood  himself!  " 


XII 
THE  EVIL  EYE 

COMPLETELY  at  sea  as  a  result  of  the  unex 
pected  revelation  of  the  shoe-prints  we  had 
found  in  the  Museum,  and  with  suspicions  now  thor 
oughly  aroused  against  Lockwood,  I  accompanied 
Kennedy  to  keep  our  appointment  with  the  Senorita 
at  the  Prince  Edward  Albert. 

We  were  purposely  a  bit  early,  in  order  to  meet 
Inez,  so  that  she  would  not  have  to  be  alone  with 
the  Senora,  and  we  sat  down  in  the  lobby  in  a  little 
angle  from  which  we  could  look  into  the  tea  room. 

We  had  not  been  sitting  there  very  long  when 
Kennedy  called  my  attention  to  Whitney,  who  had 
just  come  in.  Almost  at  the  same  time  he  caught 
sight  of  us,  and  walked  over. 

"  I've  been  thinking  a  good  deal  of  your  visit  to 
me  just  now,"  he  began,  seating  himself  beside  us. 
"  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  said  what  I  did  about 
your  friend  Norton.  But  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  guess 
you  know  something  about  that  dagger  he  lost,  don't 
you?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  '  great  fish  '  and  the  *  little 
fish '  and  the  *  curse  of  Mansiche,'  "  replied  Ken 
nedy,  "  if  that  is  what  you  mean.  Somehow  the 
'Inca  dagger  seems  to  have  been  mixed  up  with 
them." 

132 


THE  EVIL  EYE  133 

"  Yes — with  the  peje  grande,  I  believe,"  went  on 
Whitney. 

Beneath  his  exterior  of  studied  calm  I  could  see 
that  he  was  very  much  excited.  If  I  had  not  al 
ready  noted  a  peculiar  physical  condition  in  him,  I 
might  have  thought  he  had  stopped  in  the  cafe  with 
some  friends  too  long.  But  his  eyes  were  not  those 
of  a  man  who  has  had  too  much  to  drink. 

Just  then  Senorita  Mendoza  entered,  and  Ken 
nedy  rose  and  went  forward  to  greet  her.  She  saw 
Whitney,  and  flashed  an  inquiring  glance  at  us. 

"  We  were  waiting  for  Senorita  Mendoza,"  ex 
plained  Kennedy  to  both  Whitney  and  her,  "  when 
Mr.  Whitney  happened  along.  I  don't  see  Senora 
de  Moche  in  the  tea  room.  Perhaps  we  may  as  well 
sit  out  here  in  the  corridor  until  she  comes." 

It  was  evidently  his  desire  to  see  how  Whitney 
and  Inez  would  act,  for  this  was  the  first  time  we 
had  ever  seen  them  together. 

"  We  were  talking  of  the  treasure,"  resumed 
Whitney,  omitting  to  mention  the  dagger.  "  Ken 
nedy,  we  are  not  the  only  ones  who  have  sought  the 
peje  grande,  or  rather  are  seeking  it.  But  we  are,  I 
believe,  the  only  ones  who  are  seeking  it  in  the  right 
place,  and,"  he  added,  leaning  over  confidentially, 
"  your  father,  Senorita,  was  the  only  one  who  could 
have  got  the  concession,  the  monopoly,  from  the 
government  to  seek  in  what  I  am  convinced  will  be 
the  right  place.  Others  have  found  the  '  little  fish.' 
We  shall  find  the  '  big  fish.'  " 

He  had  raised  his  voice  from  the  whisper,  and  I 


134         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

caught  Inez  looking  anxiously  at  Kennedy,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  You  see?  He  is  like  the  rest.  His  mind 
is  full  of  only  one  subject." 

"  We  shall  find  it,  too,"  he  continued,  still  speak 
ing  in  a  high-pitched  key,  "  no  matter  what  obstacles 
man  or  devil  put  in  our  way.  It  shall  be  ours — for 
a  simple  piece  of  engineering — ours !  The  curse  of 
Mansiche — pouf !  " 

He  snapped  his  fingers  defiantly  as  he  said  it. 
There  was  an  air  of  bravado  about  his  manner.  I 
could  not  help  feeling  that  perhaps  in  his  heart  he 
was  not  so  sure  of  himself  as  he  would  have  others 
think. 

I  watched  him  closely,  and  could  see  that  he  had 
suddenly  become  even  more  excited  than  before.  It 
was  as  though  some  diabolical  force  had  taken  pos 
session  of  his  brain,  and  he  fought  it  off,  but  was 
unable  to  conquer. 

Kennedy  followed  the  staring  glance  of  Whitney's 
eyes,  which  seemed  almost  to  pop  out  of  his  head, 
as  though  he  were  suffering  from  the  disease  exoph 
thalmic  goitre.  I  looked  also.  Sefiora  de  Moche 
had  come  from  the  elevator,  accompanied  by  Al 
fonso,  and  was  walking  slowly  down  the  corridor. 
As  she  looked  to  the  right  and  left,  she  had  caught 
sight  of  our  little  group,  all  except  Whitney,  with 
our  backs  toward  her.  She  was  now  looking  fixedly 
in  our  direction,  paying  no  attention  to  anything 
else. 

Whitney  was  a  study.  I  wondered  what  could 
be  the  relations  between  these  two,  the  frankly 


THE  EVIL  EYE  135 

voluptuous  woman  and  the  calculating  full-blooded 
man.  Whitney,  for  his  part,  seemed  almost  fas 
cinated  by  her  gaze.  He  rose  as  she  bowed,  and, 
for  a  moment,  I  thought  that  he  was  going  over  to 
speak  to  her,  as  if  drawn  by  that  intangible  attrac 
tion  which  Poe  has  so  cleverly  expressed  in  his  "  Imp 
of  the  Perverse."  For,  clearly,  one  who  talked 
as  Whitney  had  just  been  talking  would  have  to  be 
on  his  guard  with  that  woman.  Instead,  however,  he 
returned  her  nod  and  stood  still,  while  Kennedy 
bowed  at  a  distance  and  signalled  to  her  that  we 
would  be  in  the  tea  room  directly. 

I  glanced  up  in  time  to  see  the  anxious  look  on 
the  face  of  Inez  change  momentarily  into  a  flash  of 
hatred  toward  the  Seiiora. 

At  the  same  moment  Alfonso,  who  was  on  the 
other  side  of  his  mother,  turned  from  looking  at  a 
newsstand  which  had  attracted  his  attention  and 
caught  sight  of  us.  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
ardent  glance  which  he  directed  at  the  fair  Peruvian 
at  my  side.  I  fancied,  too,  that  her  face  softened 
a  bit.  It  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  Inez  re 
sumed  her  normal  composure. 

"  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer,"  remarked  Whit 
ney.  "  Somehow,  when  I  start  to  talk  about  my — 
our  plans  down  there  at  Truxillo  I  could  go  on  all 
night.  It  is  marvellous,  marvellous.  We  haven't  any 
idea  of  what  the  future  holds  in  store.  No  one  else 
in  all  this  big  city  has  anything  like  the  prospect 
which  is  before  us.  Gradually  we  are  getting  every 
thing  into  shape.  When  we  are  ready  to  go  ahead, 


136         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

it  will  be  the  sensation  of  Wall  Street — and,  believe 
me,  it  takes  much  to  arouse  the  Street." 

He  may  have  been  talking  wildly,  but  it  was 
worth  while  to  listen  to  him.  For,  whatever  else  he 
was,  Whitney  was  one  of  the  most  persuasive  pro 
moters  of  the  day.  More  than  that,  I  could  well 
imagine  how  any  one  possessed  of  an  imagination 
susceptible  to  the  influence  of  mystery  and  tradition 
would  succumb  to  the  glittering  charm  of  the  magic 
words,  peje  chica,  and  feel  all  the  gold-hunter's 
enthusiasm  when  Whitney  brought  him  into  the  at 
mosphere  of  the  peje  grande.  As  he  talked,  visions 
of  hidden  treasure  seemed  to  throw  a  glamour  over 
everything.  One  saw  golden. 

"You  will  excuse  us?"  apologized  Kennedy,  tak 
ing  Inez  by  the  arm.  "  If  you  are  about,  Mr.  Whit 
ney,  I  shall  stop  to  chat  with  you  again  on  the  way 
out." 

"  Remember — she  is  a  very  remarkable  woman," 
said  Whitney,  as  we  left  him  and  started  for  the  tea 
room. 

His  tone  was  not  exactly  one  of  warning,  yet  it 
seemed  to  have  cost  him  an  effort  to  say  it.  I  could 
not  reconcile  it  with  any  other  idea  than  that  he 
was  trying  to  use  her  in  his  own  plans,  but  was  still 
in  doubt  of  the  outcome. 

We  parted  from  him  and  entered  the  darkened 
tea  room,  with  its  wicker  tables  and  chairs,  and  soft 
lights,  glowing  pinkly,  to  simulate  night  in  the  broad 
light  of  afternoon  outside.  A  fountain  splashed 
soothingly  in  the  centre.  Everything  was  done  to 
lend  to  the  place  an  exotic  air  of  romance. 


THE  EVIL  EYE  137 

Alfonso  and  his  mother  had  chosen  a  far  corner, 
deeper  than  the  rest  in  the  shadows,  where  two 
wicker  settees  were  drawn  up  about  a  table,  effectu 
ally  cutting  off  inquisitive  eyes  and  ears. 

Alfonso  rose  as  we  approached  and  bowed  deeply. 
I  could  not  help  watching  the  two  women  as  they 
greeted  each  other. 

"  Won't  you  be  seated?  "  he  asked,  pulling  around 
one  of  the  wicker  chairs. 

It  was  then  that  I  saw  how  he  had  contrived  to 
sit  next  to  Inez,  while  Kennedy  manoeuvred  to  sit  on 
the  end,  where  he  could  observe  them  all  best. 

It  was  a  rather  delicate  situation,  and  I  wondered 
how  Kennedy  would  handle  it,  for,  although  Alfonso 
had  done  the  inviting,  it  was  really  Craig  who  was 
responsible  for  allowing  Inez  to  accept.  The 
Senora  seemed  to  recognize  it,  also,  for,  although  she 
talked  to  Inez,  it  was  plain  she  had  him  in  mind. 

"  I  have  heard  from  Alfonso  about  the  cruel  death 
of  your  father,"  she  began,  in  a  softened  tone,  "  and 
I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  tell  you  how  deeply  I 
sympathize  with  you.  Of  course,  I  am  a  much  older 
woman  than  you,  have  seen  much  more  trouble.  But 
I  know  that  never  in  life  do  troubles  seem  keener 
than  when  life  is  young.  And  yours  has  been  so 
harsh.  I  could  not  let  it  pass  without  an  opportunity 
to  tell  you  how  deeply  I  feel." 

She  said  it  with  an  air  of  sincerity  that  was  very 
convincing,  so  convincing,  in  fact,  that  it  shook  for 
the  moment  the  long  chain  of  suspicion  that  I  had 
been  forging  both  of  her  and  her  son.  Could  she  be 
such  a  heartless  woman  as  to  play  on  the  very  heart- 


138         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

strings  of  one  whom  she  had  wronged?  I  was 
shaken,  moreover,  by  the  late  discovery  by  Ken 
nedy  of  the  foot-prints. 

The  Senorita  murmured  her  thanks  for  the  con 
dolences  in  a  broken  voice.  It  was  evident  that 
whatever  enmity  she  bore  against  the  Senora  it  was 
not  that  of  suspicion  that  she  was  the  cause  of  her 
father's  death. 

"  I  can  sympathize  with  you  the  more  deeply," 
she  went  on,  "  because  only  lately  I  have  lost  a 
very  dear  brother  myself.  Already  I  have  told  Pro 
fessor  Kennedy  something  about  it.  It  was  a  matter 
of  which  I  felt  I  must  speak  to  you,  for  it  may  con 
cern  you,  in  the  venture  in  which  Mr.  Lockwood  and 
your  father  were  associated,  and  into  which  now 
Mr.  Whitney  has  entered." 

Inez  said  nothing,  and  Craig  bowed,  as  though 
he,  too,  wished  her  to  go  on. 

"  It  is  about  the  '  big  fish '  and  the  concession 
which  your  father  has  obtained  from  the  govern 
ment  to  search  for  it." 

The  Senorita  started  and  grew  a  bit  pale  at  the 
reference,  but  she  seemed  to  realize  that  it  was 
something  she  ought  to  hear,  and  steeled  herself 
to  it. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  "  I  understand." 

"  As  you  no  doubt  know,"  resumed  the  Senora, 
"  no  one  has  had  the  secret  of  the  hiding-place.  It 
has  been  by  mere  tradition  that  they  were  going  to 
dig.  That  secret,  you  may  know  or  may  not  know 
now,  was  in  reality  contained  in  the  inscriptions  on 
an  old  Inca  dagger." 


THE  EVIL  EYE  139 

Inez  shuddered  at  the  mention  of  the  weapon,  a 
shudder  that  was  not  lost  on  the  Seriora. 

"  I  have  already  told  Professor  Kennedy  that  both 
the  tradition  and  the  dagger  were  handed  down  in 
my  own  family,  coming  at  last  to  my  brother.  As  I 
said,  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  but  somehow 
he  seemed  to  be  getting  crazy,  until  he  talked,  and 
the  dagger  was  stolen  from  him.  It  came  finally 
into  Professor  Norton's  hands,  from  whom  it  was 
in  turn  stolen." 

She  looked  at  Inez  searchingly,  as  if  to  discover 
just  what  she  knew.  I  wondered  whether  the 
Seriora  suspected  the  presence  of  Lockwood's  foot 
prints  in  the  sarcophagus  in  the  Museum — what  she 
would  do  if  she  did. 

"  After  he  lost  it,"  she  continued  reminiscently, 
"  my  brother  threw  himself  one  day  into  Lake  Titi- 
caca.  Everywhere  the  trail  of  that  dagger,  of  the 
secret  of  the  Gold  of  the  Gods  has  been  stained 
by  blood.  To-day  the  world  scoffs  at  curses.  But 
surely  that  gold  must  be  cursed.  It  has  been  cursed 
for  us  and  ours." 

She  spoke  bitterly;  yet  might  she  not  mean  that 
the  loss  of  the  dagger,  the  secret,  was  a  curse,  too? 

"  There  is  one  other  thing  I  wish  to  say,  and  then 
I  will  be  through.  Far  back,  when  your  ancestors 
came  into  the  country  of  mine,  an  ancestor  of  your 
father  lost  his  life  over  the  treasure.  It  seems  as 
if  there  were  a  strange  fatality  over  it,  as  if  the 
events  of  to-day  were  but  living  over  the  events  of 
yesterday.  It  is  something  that  we  cannot  escape — 
fate." 


1 40         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

She  paused  a  moment,  then  added,  "  Yet  it 
might  be  possible  that  the  curse  could  be  removed 
if  somehow  we,  who  were  against  each  other  then, 
might  forget  and  be  for  each  other  now." 

"  But  Senorita  Mendoza  has  not  the  dagger,"  put 
in  Kennedy,  watching  her  face  keenly,  to  read  the 
effect  of  his  remark.  "  She  has  no  idea  where  it 
may  be." 

"  Then  it  is  pure  tradition  on  which  Mr.  Lock- 
wood  and  Mr.  Whitney  depend  in  their  search  for 
the  treasure?  "  flashed  back  the  Sefiora  quickly. 

Kennedy  did  not  know,  but  he  did  not  confess  it 
"  Until  we  know  differently,  we  must  take  their  word 
for  it,"  he  evaded. 

"  It  was  not  that  that  I  meant,  however,"  replied 
Sefiora  de  Moche.  "  I  meant  that  we  might  stop 
the  curse  by  ceasing  to  hunt  for  the  treasure.  It 
has  never  done  any  one  good;  it  never  will.  Why 
tempt  fate,  then?  Why  not  pause  before  it  is  too 
late?" 

I  could  not  quite  catch  the  secondary  implica 
tion  of  her  plan.  Did  it  mean  that  the  treasure 
would  then  be  left  for  her  family?  Or  was  she 
hinting  at  Inez  accepting  Alfonso's  suit?  Somehow 
I  could  not  take  the  Sefiora  at  her  face  value.  I 
constantly  felt  that  there  was  an  ulterior  motive 
back  of  her  actions  and  words. 

I  saw  Craig  watching  the  young  man's  face,  and 
followed  his  eyes.  There  was  no  doubt  of  how  he 
took  the  remark.  He  was  gazing  ardently  at  Inez. 
If  there  had  ever  been  any  doubt  of  his  feelings, 


THE  EVIL  EYE  141 

which,  of  course,  there  had  not,  this  would  have 
settled  it. 

"  One  thing  more,"  added  the  Senora,  as  though 
she  had  had  an  afterthought,  "  and  that  is  about  Mr. 
Lockwood  and  Mr.  Whitney.  Let  me  ask  you  to 
think  it  over.  Suppose  they  have  not  the  dagger. 
Then  are  their  chances  better  than  others?  And 
if  they  have" — she  paused  to  emphasize  it — "  what 
does  that  mean?  " 

Kennedy  had  turned  his  attention  to  the  Sefiorita. 
It  was  evident  that  the  dilemma  proposed  by 
de  Moche  was  not  without  weight.  She  had  now 
coloured  a  flaming  red.  The  woman  had  struck  her 
in  a  vital  spot. 

"  Mr.  Lockwood  is  not  here  to  defend  himself," 
Inez  said  quietly.  "  I  will  not  have  him  attacked  by 
innuendo." 

She  had  risen.  Neither  the  ardour  of  Alfonso 
nor  the  seeds  of  doubt  of  the  Senora  had  shaken 
her  faith.  It  was  a  test  that  Kennedy  evidently  was 
glad  to  have  witnessed.  For  some  day  she  might 
learn  the  truth  about  the  foot-prints.  He  under 
stood  her  character  better.  The  Senora,  too,  had 
learned  that  if  she  were  to  bring  pressure  on  the 
girl  she  might  break  her,  but  she  would  not  bend. 

Without  another  word  Inez,  scarcely  bowing 
stiffly,  moved  out  of  the  tea  room,  and  we  followed, 
leaving  the  mother  and  son  there,  baffled. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  allowing  you  to 
come  here,"  said  Kennedy,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  did 
it  because  there  are  certain  things  that  you  ought  to 


142         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

hear.  It  was  in  fairness  to  you.  I  would  not  have 
you  delude  yourself  about  Mr.  Whitney,  about — Mr. 
Lockwood,  even.  I  want  you  to  feel  that,  no  matter 
what  you  hear  or  see,  you  can  come  to  me  and  know 
that  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  It  may  hurt,  but  it 
will  be  best." 

I  thought  he  was  preparing  the  way  for  a  revela 
tion  about  the  foot-prints,  but  he  said  nothing  more. 

"  Oh,  that  woman ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  if  to 
change  the  subject.  "  I  do  not  know,  I  cannot  say, 
why  she  affects  me  so.  I  saw  a  change  in  my  father, 
when  he  knew  her.  I  have  told  you  how  he  was,  how 
sometimes  I  thought  he  was  mad.  Did  you  notice  a 
change  in  Mr.  Whitney,  or  haven't  you  known  him 
long  enough?  And  lately  I  have  fancied  that  I  see 
the  same  sort  of  change  beginning  in  Mr.  Lock- 
wood.  At  times  they  become  so  excited,  their  eyes 
seem  staring,  as  if  some  fever  were  wasting  them 
away.  Father  seemed  to  see  strange  visions,  and 
hear  voices,  was  worse  when  he  was  alone  than  when 
he  was  in  a  crowd.  Oh,  what  is  it?  I  could  think 
of  nothing  else,  not  even  what  she  was  saying,  all 
the  time  I  was  with  her." 

"  Then  you  fear  that  in  some  way  she  may  be  con 
nected  with  these  strange  changes?"  asked  Ken 
nedy. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  temporized;  but  the  tone 
of  her  answer  was  sufficient  to  convey  the  impres 
sion  that  in  her  heart  she  did  suspect  something,  she 
knew  not  what. 

"  Oh,    Professor    Kennedy,"    she    cried    finally, 


THE  EVIL  EYE  143 

"  can't  you  see  it?  Sometimes — when  she  looks  out 
of  those  eyes  of  hers — she  almost  makes  people  do 
as  she  pleases." 

We  had  come  to  the  taxicab  stand  before  the  hotel, 
and  Kennedy  had  already  beckoned  to  a  cab  to  take 
her  home. 

As  he  handed  her  in  she  turned  with  a  little  shiver. 

"  Don't  please,  think  me  foolish,"  she  added,  with 
bated  breath,  "  but  often  I  fear  that  it  is,  as  we 
call  it,  the  mat  de  ojo — the  evil  eye !  " 


XIII 
THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE 

THERE  was  not  a  grain  of  superstition  in  Ken 
nedy,  yet  I  could  see  that  he  was  pondering 
deeply  what  Inez  Mendoza  had  just  said.  Was 
it  possible  that  there  might  be  something  in  it — not 
objectively,  but  subjectively?  Might  that  very  fear 
which  the  Sefiorita  had  of  the  Senora  engender  a 
feeling  that  would  produce  the  very  result  that  she 
feared?  I  knew  that  there  were  strange  things  that 
modern  psychology  was  discovering.  Could  there 
be  some  scientific  explanation  of  the  evil  eye  ? 

Kennedy  turned  and  went  back  into  the  hotel,  to 
keep  his  appointment  with  Whitney,  and  as  he  did 
so  I  reflected  that,  whatever  credence  might  be  given 
the  evil-eye  theory,  there  was  something  now  before 
us  that  was  a  fact — the  physical  condition  which  Inez 
had  observed  in  her  father  before  his  death,  saw 
now  in  Whitney,  and  foresaw  in  Lockwood.  Surely 
that  in  itself  constituted  enough  of  a  problem. 

We  found  Whitney  in  the  cafe,  sitting  alone  in  a 
leather-cushioned  booth,  and  smoking  furiously.  I 
observed  him  narrowly.  His  eyes  had  even  more 
than  before  that  peculiar,  staring  look.  By  the  man 
ner  in  which  his  veins  stood  out  I  could  see  that  his 
heart  action  must  be  very  rapid. 

144 


THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE        145 

"  Well,"  he  remarked,  as  we  seated  ourselves, 
"  how  did  you  come  out  in  your  tete-a-tete?  " 

"  About  as  I  expected,"  answered  Kennedy  non 
chalantly.  "  I  let  it  go  on  merely  because  I  wanted 
Senorita  Mendoza  to  hear  certain  things,  and  I 
thought  that  the  Senora  could  tell  them  best.  One 
of  them  related  to  the  history  of  that  dagger." 

I  thought  Whitney's  eyes  would  pop  out  of  his 
head.  "  What  about  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,"  replied  Kennedy  briefly,  "  there  was  the 
story  of  how  her  brother  had  it  and  was  driven 
crazy  until  he  gave  it  up  to  somebody,  then  com 
mitted  suicide  by  throwing  himself  into  Titicaca. 
The  other  was  the  tradition  that  in  the  days  after 
Pizarro  a  Mendoza  was  murdered  by  it,  just  as  her 
father  has  now  been  murdered." 

Whitney  was  listening  intently,  and  seemed  to  be 
thinking  deeply  of  something. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  finally,  with  a  nod  to 
indicate  that  he  knew  what  it  was  that  Kennedy  re 
ferred  to,  "  I've  been  thinking  of  that  de  Moche 
woman  a  good  deal  since  I  left  you  with  her.  I've 
had  some  dealings  with  her." 

He  looked  at  Kennedy  shrewdly,  as  though  he 
would  have  liked  to  ask  whether  she  had  said  any 
thing  about  him,  but  did  not  because  he  knew  Ken 
nedy  would  not  tell.  He  was  trying  to  figure  out 
some  other  way  of  finding  out. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  she  is  trying  to  double-cross 
me,"  he  said,  at  length.  "  I  know  that  when  she 
talks  to  others  about  me  she  says  many  things  that 


146         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

aren't  so.  Yet  when  she  is  with  me  everything  is 
fine,  and  she  is  ready  soon  to  join  us,  use  her  influ 
ence  with  influential  Peruvians;  in  fact,  there  isn't 
anything  she  won't  do — manana,  to-morrow." 

All  that  Whitney  said  we  now  knew  to  be  true. 

"  She  has  one  interesting  dilemma,  however, 
which  I  do  not  mind  telling  you,"  remarked  Ken 
nedy  at  length.  "  She  cannot  expect  me  to  keep 
secret  what  she  said  before  all  of  us.  Inez  Mendoza 
would  mention  it,  anyhow." 

"  What  was  that?  "  queried  Whitney,  dissembling 
his  interest. 

"  Why,"  replied  Kennedy  slowly,  "  it  was  that, 
with  the  plans  for  digging  for  the  treasure  which 
you  say  you  have,  suppose  you  and  Lockwood  and 
your  associates  have  not  the  dagger — how  are  you 
better  off  than  previous  hunters  ?  And  supposing  you 
have  it — what  does  that  imply?  " 

Whitney  thought  a  moment  over  the  last  propo 
sition  of  the  dilemma.  "Imply?"  he  repeated 
slowly.  Then  the  significance  of  it  seemed  to  dawn 
on  him,  the  possession  of  the  dagger  and  its  implica 
tion  in  regard  to  the  murder  of  Mendoza.  "  Well," 
he  answered,  "  we  haven't  the  dagger.  You  know 
that.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  think  our  plans  for 
getting  at  the  treasure  are  better  than  any  one  else 
has  ever  had,  more  certain  of  success." 

"  Yet  the  possession  of  the  dagger,  with  its  in 
scription,  is  the  only  thing  that  absolutely  insures 
success,"  observed  Kennedy. 

"  That's  true  enough,"  agreed  Whitney.     "  Con- 


THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE        147 

found  that  man  Norton.  How  could  he  be  such  a 
boob  as  to  let  the  chance  slip  through  his  fingers?  " 

"  He  never  told  you  of  it?  "  asked  Kennedy. 

"  Yes,  he  told  me  of  the  dagger,  but  hadn't  read 
the  inscription,  he  said,"  answered  Whitney.  "  I 
was  so  busy  at  the  time  with  Lockwood  and  Men- 
doza,  who  had  the  concession  to  dig  for  the  treasure, 
that  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  what  Norton 
brought  back.  I  thought  that  could  wait  until  Lock- 
wood  had  been  persuaded  to  join  the  interests  I 
represent." 

"  Did  Lockwood  or  Mendoza  know  about  the 
dagger  and  its  importance?"  suggested  Craig. 

"  If  they  did,  they  never  said  anything  about  it," 
returned  Whitney  promptly.  "  Mendoza  is  dead. 
Lockwood  tells  me  he  knew  nothing  about  it  until 
very  lately — since  the  murder,  I  suppose." 

"You  suppose?"  persisted  Kennedy.  "Are  you 
sure  that  he  knew  nothing  about  it  before?  " 

"  No,"  confessed  Whitney,  "  I'm  not  sure.  Only 
I  say  that  he  told  me  nothing  of  it." 

"  Then  he  might  have  known?  " 

"  Might  have.  But  I  don't  think  it  very  prob 
able." 

Whitney  seemed  to  be  turning  something  over  in 
his  mind.  Suddenly  he  brought  his  fist  down  on  the 
little  round  table  before  us,  rattling  the  glasses. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  more  I  think 
about  it,  the  more  convinced  I  am  that  Norton  ought 
to  be  held  to  account  for  that  loss!  He  ought  to 
have  known.  Then  the  presumption  is  that  he  did 


148          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

know.  By  heaven,  I'm  going  to  have  that  fellow 
watched.  I'm  going  to  do  it  to-day,  too.  I  don't 
trust  him.  He  shall  not  double-cross  me — even  if 
that  woman  does!  " 

I  wondered  whether  Whitney  was  bluffing.  If  he 
was,  he  was  making  a  lot  of  fuss  over  it.  He  talked 
more  and  more  wildly,  as  he  grew  more  excited  over 
his  latest  idea. 

"  I'll  have  detectives  put  on  his  trail,"  he  blus 
tered.  "  I'll  talk  it  over  with  Lockwood.  He  never 
liked  the  man." 

"  What  did  Lockwood  say  about  Norton?  "  asked 
Kennedy  casually. 

Whitney  eyed  us  a  moment. 

*'  Say,"  he  ejaculated,  "  it  was  Norton  brought 
you  into  this  case,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  I  cannot  deny  that,"  returned  Kennedy  quietly, 
meeting  his  eyes.  "  But  it  is  Inez  Mendoza  now  that 
keeps  me  in  it." 

"So — you're  another  rival,  are  you?"  purred 
Whitney  sarcastically.  "  Lockwood  and  de  Moche 
aren't  enough.  I  have  a  sneaking  suspicion  that 
Norton  himself  is  one  of  them.  Now  it's  you,  too. 
I  suppose  Mr.  Jameson  is  another.  Well,  if  I  was 
ten  years  younger,  I'd  cut  you  all  out,  or  know  the 
reason  why.  Oh,  yes,  I  think  I  will  not  tell  you 
what  Mr.  Lockwood  suspects." 

With  every  sentence  the  veins  of  Whitney's  fore 
head  stood  out  further,  until  now  they  were  like 
whipcords.  His  eyes  and  face  were  fairly  apoplec 
tic.  Slowly  the  conviction  was  forced  on  me.  The 


THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE        149 

man  acted  for  all  the  world  like  one  affected  by  a 
drug. 

"  Well,"  he  went  on,  "  you  may  tell  Norton  for 
me  that  I  am  going  to  have  him  watched.  That  will 
throw  a  scare  into  him." 

At  least  it  showed  that  the  breach  between  Whit 
ney  and  Norton  was  deep.  Kennedy  listened  with 
out  saying  much,  but  I  knew  that  he  was  gratified. 
He  was  playing  Lockwood  against  de  Moche,  the 
Senora  against  Inez.  Now  if  Whitney  would  play 
himself  against  Norton,  out  of  the  tangle  might 
emerge  just  the  clues  he  needed.  For  when  people 
get  fighting  among  themselves  the  truth  comes  out. 

"  Very  well,"  remarked  Craig,  rising,  with  a  hur 
ried  glance  at  Whitney's  apoplectic  face,  "  go  as  far 
as  you  like.  I  think  we  understand  each  other  bet 
ter,  now." 

Whitney  said  nothing,  but,  rising  also,  turned  on 
his  heel  and  walked  deliberately  out  of  the  cafe  into 
the  corridor  of  the  Prince  Edward  Albert,  leaving 
us  standing  there. 

Kennedy  leaned  over  and  swept  up  the  ashes  of 
Whitney's  cigarettes  which  lay  in  the  ash-tray,  plac 
ing  them,  stubs  and  all,  in  an  envelope,  as  he  had 
done  before. 

"  We  have  one  sample,  already,"  he  said.  "  An 
other  won't  hurt.  You  can  never  have  too  much 
material  to  work  with.  Let  us  see  where  he  is 
going." 

Slowly  we  followed  in  the  direction  which  Whit 
ney  had  taken  from  the  cafe.  There  was  Whitney 


1 50         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

standing  by  the  cigar-stand,  gazing  intently  down  the 
corridor. 

Kennedy  and  I  moved  over  so  that  we  could  see 
what  he  was  gazing  at.  Just  then  he  started  to  walk 
hurriedly  in  the  direction  in  which  he  was  looking. 

"  Senora  de  Moche  1  "  exclaimed  Craig,  drawing 
me  toward  a  palm. 

It  was  indeed  she.  She  had  left  the  tea  room  and 
gone  to  her  own  room.  Now  she  was  alighting  from 
the  elevator,  and  had  started  toward  the  main  din 
ing-room,  when  her  eyes  had  rested  on  Whitney. 
In  spite  of  all  that  he  had  said  to  us  about  her,  he 
had  received  the  glance  as  a  signal  and  was  flutter 
ing  over  to  her  like  a  moth  to  a  flame. 

What  was  the  reason  back  of  it  all,  I  asked,  as  I 
thought  of  those  wonderful  eyes  of  hers?  Was  it 
a  sort  of  auto-hypnotism?  There  was,  I  knew,  a 
form  of  illusion  known  as  ophthalmophobia — fear 
of  the  eye.  It  ranged  from  mere  aversion  at  being 
gazed  at  all  the  way  to  the  subjective  development 
of  real  physical  action  from  an  otherwise  trivial  ob 
jective  cause.  Perhaps  Inez  was  right  about  the 
eyes.  One  might  fear  them,  and  that  fear  might 
cause  the  precise  thing  to  happen  which  the  owner 
of  the  eyes  intended.  Still,  as  I  reflected  before, 
there  was  a  much  more  important  problem  regard 
ing  eyes  before  us,  that  of  the  drug  that  was  evi 
dently  being  used  in  the  cigarettes.  What  was  it? 

There  was  no  chance  of  our  gleaning  anything 
now  from  these  two  who  made  such  a  strange  pair. 


THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE        151 

Kennedy  turned  and  went  out  of  the  nearest  en 
trance  of  the  hotel. 

"  Central  Park,  West,"  he  directed  a  cab  driver, 
as  we  climbed  in  his  machine ;  then  to  me,  after  giving 
the  number,  "  I  must  see  Inez  Mendoza  again  before 
I  can  go  ahead." 

Inez  was  not  expecting  us  so  soon  after  leaving 
her  at  the  hotel,  yet  I  think  was  just  a  little  glad 
that  we  had  come. 

"Did  anything  happen  after  I  left?"  she  asked 
eagerly. 

"  We  went  back  and  saw  Mr.  Whitney,"  returned 
Craig.  "  I  believe  you  are  right.  He  is  acting 
queerly." 

"  Alfonso  called  me  up,"  she  volunteered. 

"  Was  it  about  anything  I  should  know?  "  queried 
Craig. 

"  Well,"  she  hesitated,  "  he  said  he  hoped  that 
nothing  that  had  taken  place  would  change  our  own 
relations.  That  was  about  all.  He  was  the  dutiful 
son,  and  made  no  attempt  to  explain  anything  that 
was  said." 

Kennedy  smiled.  "  You  have  not  seen  Mr.  Lock- 
wood  since,  I  suppose?  "  he  asked. 

"  You  always  make  me  tell  what  I  hadn't  in 
tended,"  she  confessed,  smiling  back.  "  Yes,  I 
couldn't  help  it.  At  least,  I  didn't  see  him.  I  called 
him  up.  I  wanted  to  tell  him  what  she  had  said 
and  that  it  hadn't  made  any  difference  to  me." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  I  can't  remember  just  how  he  put  it,  but  I  think 


152         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

he  meant  that  it  was  something  very  much  like  that 
anonymous  letter  I  received.  We  both  feel  that 
there  is  some  one  who  wants  to  make  trouble  be 
tween  us,  and  we  are  not  going  to  let  it  happen." 

If  she  had  known  of  Kennedy's  discovery  of  the 
shoe-prints,  I  feel  sure  that,  as  far  as  we  were  con 
cerned,  the  case  would  have  ended  there.  She  was 
in  no  mood  to  be  convinced  by  such  a  thing,  would 
probably  have  insisted  that  some  one  was  wearing  a 
second-hand  pair  of  his  shoes. 

Kennedy's  eye  had  been  travelling  around  the 
room  as  though  searching  for  something. 

"  May  I  have  a  cigarette  out  of  that  case  over 
there?"  he  asked,  indicating  a  box  of  them  on  a 
table. 

"  Why — that  is  Mr.  Lockwood's,"  she  replied. 
"  He  left  it  here  the  last  time  he  was  here  and  I 
forgot  to  send  it  to  him.  Wait  a  minute.  Let  me 
get  you  some  of  father's." 

She  left  the  room.  The  moment  the  door  closed 
Kennedy  reached  over  and  took  one  from  the  case. 
"  I  have  some  of  Lockwood's  already,  but  another 
won't  matter,  as  long  as  I  can  get  it,"  he  said.  "  I 
thought  it  was  her  father's.  When  she  brings  them, 
smoke  one  with  me,  and  be  careful  to  save  the  stub. 
I  want  it." 

A  moment  later  she  entered  with  a  metal  box  that 
must  have  held  several  hundred.  Kennedy  and  I 
each  took  one  and  lighted  it,  then  for  several  minutes 
chatted  as  an  excuse  for  staying.  As  for  myself,  I 
was  glad  enough  to  leave  a  pretty  large  stub,  for  I 


THE  POISONED  CIGARETTE        153 

did  not  like  it.  These  cigarettes,  like  those  Whitney 
had  offered  us,  had  a  peculiar  flavour  which  I  had 
not  acquired  a  liking  for. 

"  You  must  let  me  know  whether  anything  else 
develops  from  the  meeting  in  the  tea  room,"  said 
Kennedy  finally,  rising.  "  I  shall  be  at  the  labora 
tory  some  time,  I  think." 


XIV 
THE  INTERFEROMETER 

NORTON  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  laboratory 
when  we  returned,  evidently  having  been  there 
some  time. 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  my  apartment,"  he  began, 
"  when  I  thought  I'd  drop  in  to  see  how  things  are 
progressing." 

"  Slowly,"  returned  Kennedy,  throwing  off  his 
street  clothes  and  getting  into  his  laboratory  togs. 

"  Have  you  seen  Whitney  since  I  had  the  break 
with  him?  "  asked  Norton,  a  trifle  anxiously. 

I  wondered  whether  Kennedy  would  tell  Norton 
what  to  expect  from  Whitney.  He  did  not,  how 
ever. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  just  now  we  had  an  appoint 
ment  with  Senora  de  Moche  and  some  others  and 
ran  into  him  at  the  hotel  for  a  few  moments." 

"  What  did  he  say  about  me?  "  queried  Norton. 

"  He  hadn't  changed  his  mind,"  evaded  Kennedy. 
"  Have  you  heard  anything  from  him?  " 

"  Not  a  syllable.  The  break  is  final.  Only  I  was 
wondering  what  he  was  telling  people  about  me. 
He'll  tell  them  something — his  side  of  the  case." 

"  Well,"  considered  Kennedy,  as  though  racking 
his  brain  for  some  remark  which  he  remembered, 

154 


THE  INTERFEROMETER  155 

while  Norton  watched  him  eagerly,  "  I  do  recall  that 
he  was  terribly  sore  about  the  loss  of  the  dagger,  and 
seemed  to  think  that  it  was  your  fault." 

"  I  thought  so,  I  knew  it,"  replied  Norton  bit 
terly.  "  I  can  see  it  coming.  All  the  trustees  will 
hear  of  my  gross  negligence  in  letting  the  Museum 
be  robbed.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  sit  up  there  all 
night.  Oh,  by  the  way,  there's  another  thing  I 
wanted  to  ask  you.  Have  you  ever  done  anything 
with  those  shoe-prints  you  found  in  the  dust  of  the 
mummy  case  ?  " 

I  glanced  at  Kennedy,  wondering  whether  he  felt 
that  the  time  had  come  to  reveal  what  he  had  dis 
covered.  He  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  but  reached 
into  a  drawer  and  pulled  out  the  papers,  which  I 
recognized. 

"  Here  they  are,"  he  said,  picking  out  the  original 
impression  which  he  had  taken. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  Norton,  "  but  have  you  been 
able  to  do  anything  toward  identifying  them?  " 

"  I  found  it  rather  hard  to  collect  prints  of  the 
shoes  of  all  of  those  I  wished  to  compare.  But  I 
have  them  at  last." 

"And?"  demanded  Norton,  leaning  forward 
tensely. 

"  I  find  that  there  is  one  person  whose  shoe-prints 
are  precisely  the  same  as  those  we  found  in  the  Mu 
seum,"  went  on  Kennedy,  tossing  over  the  impression 
he  had  taken. 

Norton  scanned  the  two  carefully.  "  I'm  not  a 
criminologist,"  he  said  excitedly,  "  but  to  my  un- 


156         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

trained  eye  it  does  seem  as  though  you  had  here  a 
replica  of  the  first  prints,  all  right."  He  laid  them 
down  and  looked  squarely  at  Kennedy.  "  Do  you 
mind  telling  me  whose  feet  made  these  prints?  " 

"  Turn  the  second  over.  You  will  see  the  name 
written  on  it." 

"  Lockwood!  "  exclaimed  Norton  in  a  gasp  as  he 
read  the  name.  "  No — you  don't  mean  it." 

"  I  mean  nothing  less,"  repeated  Kennedy  firmly. 
"  I  do  not  say  what  happened  afterwards,  but  Lock- 
wood  was  in  the  Museum,  hiding  in  the  mummy 
case,  that  night." 

Norton's  mind  was  evidently  working  rapidly. 
"  I  wish  I  had  your  power  of  deduction,  Kennedy," 
he  said,  at  length.  "  I  suppose  you  realize  what  this 
means?  " 

"What  does  it  mean  to  you?"  asked  Kennedy, 
changing  front. 

Norton  hesitated.  "Well,"  he  replied,  "it 
means  to  me,  I  suppose,  what  it  means  to  any  one 
who  stops  to  think.  If  Lockwood  was  there,  he  got 
the  dagger.  If  he  had  the  dagger — it  was  he  who 
used  it !  " 

The  inference  was  so  strong  that  Craig  could  not 
deny  it.  Whether  it  was  his  opinion  or  not  was  an 
other  matter. 

"  It  fits  in  with  other  facts,  too,"  continued  Nor 
ton.  "  For  instance,  it  was  Lockwood  who  discov 
ered  the  body  of  Mendoza." 

"  But  the  elevator  boy  took  Lockwood  up  him 
self,"  objected  Craig,  more  for  the  sake  of  promot 
ing  the  discussion  than  to  combat  Norton. 


THE  INTERFEROMETER  157 

"  Yes — when  he  '  discovered  '  the  thing.  But  it 
must  have  been  done  long  before.  Who  knows? 
He  may  have  entered.  The  deed  might  have  been 
done.  He  may  have  left.  No  one  saw  him  come  or 
go.  What  then  more  likely  to  cover  himself  up  than 
to  return  when  he  knew  that  his  entrance  would  be 
known,  and  find  the  thing  himself?  " 

Norton's  reasoning  was  clever  and  plausible.  Yet 
Kennedy  scarcely  nodded  his  head,  one  way  or  the 
other. 

"You  were  acquainted  with  Lockwood?"  he 
asked  finally.  "  I  mean  to  say,  of  course,  before  this 
affair." 

"  Yes,  I  met  him  in  Lima  just  as  I  was  starting 
out  on  my  expedition.  He  was  preparing  to  come 
to  New  York." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  him  then?  " 

"  Oh,  he  was  all  right,  I  suppose.  He  wasn't 
the  sort  who  would  care  much  for  an  archaeologist. 
He  cared  more  for  a  prospector  going  off  into  the 
hills  than  he  did  for  me.  And  I — I  admit  that  I  am 
impossible.  Archaeology  is  my  life." 

Norton  continued  to  study  the  prints.  "  I  can 
hardly  believe  my  eyes,"  he  murmured;  then  he 
looked  up  suddenly.  "  Does  Whitney  know  about 
this — or  Lockwood?  " 

Kennedy  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"  Because,"  pursued  Norton,  "  an  added  infer 
ence  to  that  I  spoke  of  would  be  that  the  reason  why 
they  are  so  sure  that  they  will  find  the  treasure  is 
that  they  are  not  going  on  tradition,  as  they  say, 
but  on  the  fact  itself." 


158         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  A  fair  conclusion,"  agreed  Craig. 

"  I  wish  the  break  could  have  been  postponed," 
continued  Norton.  "  Then  I  might  have  been  of 
some  service  in  my  relation  to  Whitney.  It's  too  late 
for  me  to  be  able  to  help  you  in  that  direction  now, 
however." 

"  There  is  something  you  can  do,  though,"  said 
Craig. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  hastened  Norton.  "  What 
is  it?" 

"  You  know  Senora  de  Moche  and  Alfonso?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wish  that  you  would  cultivate  their  acquaint 
ance.  I  feel  that  they  are  very  suspicious  of  me. 
Perhaps  they  may  not  be  so  with  you." 

"  Is  there  any  special  thing  you  want  to  find  out?  " 

"  Yes — only  I  have  slight  hopes  of  doing  so.  You 
know  that  she  is  on  most  intimate  terms  with  Whit 
ney." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  much  for  you,  then.  She'll 
fight  shy  of  me.  He'll  tell  her  his  story." 

"  That  will  make  no  difference.  She  has  already 
warned  me  against  him.  He  has  warned  against 
her.  It's  a  most  remarkable  situation.  He  is  trying 
to  get  her  into  some  kind  of  deal,  yet  all  the  time 
he  is  afraid  she  is  double-crossing  him.  And  at  the 
same  time  he  obeys  her — well,  like  Alfonso  would 
Inez  if  she'd  only  let  him." 

Norton  frowned.  "  I  don't  like  the  way  they 
hover  about  Inez  Mendoza,"  he  remarked.  "  Per 
haps  the  Senora  is  after  Whitney,  while  her  son  is 


THE  INTERFEROMETER  159 

after  Inez.  Lockwood  seems  to  be  impervious  to 
her.  Yes,  I'll  undertake  that  commission  for  you, 
only  I  can't  promise  what  success  I'll  have." 

Kennedy  restored  the  shoe-prints  to  the  drawer. 

"  I  think  that's  gratifying  progress,"  went  on 
Norton.  "  First  we  know  who  stole  the  dagger.  We 
know  that  the  dagger  killed  Mendoza.  You  have 
even  determined  what  the  poison  on  the  blade  was. 
It  seems  to  me  that  it  remains  only  to  determine 
who  struck  the  actual  blow.  I  tell  you,  Kennedy, 
Whitney  will  regret  the  day  that  he  ever  threw  me 
over  on  so  trivial  a  pretext." 

Norton  was  pacing  up  and  down  excitedly  now. 

"  My  only  fear  is,"  he  went  on,  "  what  the  shock 
of  such  a  thing  will  be  on  that  poor  little  girl.  First 
her  father,  then  Lockwood.  Why — the  blow  will 
be  terrible.  You  must  be  careful,  Kennedy." 

"  Never  fear  about  that,"  reassured  Craig.  "  Not 
a  word  of  this  has  been  breathed  to  her  yet.  We 
are  a  long  way  from  fixing  the  guilt  of  the  murder; 
inference  is  one  thing,  fact  another.  We  must  have 
facts.  And  the  facts  I  want,  which  you  may  be  able 
to  get,  relate  to  the  strange  actions  of  the  de 
Moches." 

Norton  scanned  Kennedy's  face  for  some  hint  of 
what  was  back  of  the  remark.  But  there  was  noth 
ing  there. 

"  They  will  bear  watching,  all  right,"  he  said,  as 
he  rose  to  go.  "  Old  Mendoza  was  never  quite  the 
same  after  he  became  so  intimate  with  her.  And  I 
think  I  can  see  a  change  in  Whitney." 


160         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"What  do  you  attribute  it  to?"  asked  Kennedy, 
without  admitting  that  it  had  attracted  his  attention, 
too. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  confessed  Norton. 

"  Inez  is  as  afraid  of  her  as  any  of  the  rest,"  re 
marked  Kennedy  thoughtfully.  "  She  says  it  is  the 
evil  eye." 

"  Not  an  uncommon  belief  among  Latin-Ameri 
cans,"  commented  Norton.  "  In  fact,  I  suppose 
there  are  people  among  us  who  believe  in  the  evil 
eye  yet.  Still,  you  can  hardly  blame  that  little  girl 
for  believing  it  is  almost  anything.  Well,  I  won't 
keep  you  any  longer.  I  shall  let  you  know  of  any 
thing  I  find  out  from  the  de  Moches.  I  think  you 
are  getting  on  remarkably." 

Norton  left  us,  his  face  much  brighter  than  it  had 
been  when  we  met  him  at  the  door. 

Kennedy,  alone  at  last  in  the  laboratory,  went 
over  to  a  cabinet  and  took  out  a  peculiar-looking 
apparatus,  which  seemed,  as  nearly  as  I  can  describe 
it,  to  consist  of  a  sort  of  triangular  prism,  set  with 
its  edge  vertically  on  a  rigid  platform  attached  to 
a  massive  stand  of  brass. 

"  Norton  seems  to  have  suddenly  become  quite 
solicitous  of  the  welfare  of  Senorita  Mendoza,"  I 
hazarded,  as  he  worked  over  the  adjustment  of  the 
thing. 

Kennedy  smiled.  "  Every  one  seems  to  be — even 
Whitney,"  he  returned,  twisting  a  set-screw  until  he 
had  the  alignment  of  the  various  parts  as  he 
wanted  it. 


THE  INTERFEROMETER  161 

The  telephone  bell  rang. 

"  Do  you  want  to  answer  it?  "  I  asked  Craig. 

**  No,"  he  replied,  not  even  looking  up  from  his 
work.  "  Find  out  who  it  is.  Unless  it  is  something 
very  important  say  I  am  out  on  an  investigation  and 
that  you  have  heard  from  me;  that  I  shall  not  be 
either  at  the  laboratory  or  the  apartment  until  to 
morrow  morning.  I  must  get  this  done  to-night." 

I  took  down  the  receiver. 

"Hello,  is  this  Professor  Kennedy?"  I  recog 
nized  a  voice. 

"  No,"  I  replied.  "  Is  there  any  message  I  can 
take?" 

"  This  is  Mr.  Lockwood,"  came  back  the  infor 
mation  I  had  already  guessed.  "  When  do  you  ex 
pect  him?  " 

"  It's  Lockwood,"  I  whispered  to  Craig,  my  hand 
over  the  transmitter. 

"  See  what  he  wants,"  returned  Craig.  "  Tell 
him  what  I  told  you." 

I  repeated  Kennedy's  message. 

"  Well,  that's  too  bad,"  replied  Lockwood.  "  I've 
just  seen  Mr.  Whitney,  and  he  tells  me  that  Ken 
nedy  and  you  are  pretty  friendly  with  Norton.  Of 
course,  I  knew  that.  I  saw  you  at  the  Mendozas' 
together  the  first  time.  I'd  like  to  have  a  talk  with 
him  about  that  man.  I  suppose  he  has  told  you  all 
his  side  of  the  story  of  his  relations  with  Whitney." 

I  am,  if  anything,  a  good  listener,  and  so  I  said 
nothing,  not  even  that  he  had  better  tell  it  to  Ken 
nedy  in  the  morning,  for  it  was  such  a  novelty  to 


1 62         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

have  any  of  these  people  talk  voluntarily  that  I 
really  didn't  much  care  whether  I  believed  what  they 
said  or  not. 

"  I  used  to  know  him  down  in  Lima,  you  know," 
went  on  Lockwood.  "  What  I  want  to  say  has  to 
do  with  that  dagger  he  says  was  stolen.  I  want  to 
tell  what  I  know  of  how  he  got  it.  There  was  an 
Indian  mixed  up  in  it  who  committed  suicide — well, 
you  tell  Kennedy  I'll  see  him  in  the  morning." 

Lockwood  rang  off,  and  I  repeated  what  he  had 
told  me,  as  Kennedy  continued  to  adjust  the  appa 
ratus. 

"  Say,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  finished.  "  That  was 
a  harry's  of  a  commission  you  gave  Norton  just 
now.  watching  the  de  Moches.  Why,  they'd  eat 
him  alive  if  they  got  a  chance,  and  I  don't  know  that 
all's  like  a  Sunday  school  on  his  part.  Lockwood 
doesn't  seem  to  think  so." 

Kennedy  smiled  quietly.  "  That  was  why  I  asked 
him  to  do  it,"  he  returned.  "  I  thought  that  he 
wouldn't  let  much  escape  him.  They  all  seem  so 
down  on  him,  he'll  have  to  watch  out  It  will  keep 
him  busy,  too,  and  that  means  a  chance  for  us  to 
work." 

He  had  finished  setting  up  the  machine,  and  now 
went  over  to  another  drawer,  from  which  he  took 
the  envelope  of  stubs  which  we  had  taken  down  at 
Whitney's  office  first.  Then  from  the  pocket  of  his 
street  coat  he  drew  both  the  second  envelope  of 
ashes  and  stubs,  the  whole  cigarette  from  Lock- 
wood's  case,  and  the  stubs  which  both  of  us  had 


THE  INTERFEROMETER  163 

saved  from  the  cigarettes  that  had  once  belonged  to 
Mendoza. 

Carefully  he  separated  and  labelled  them  all,  so 
that  there  would  be  no  chance  for  them  to  get  mixed 
up.  Then  he  picked  up  one  of  the  stubs  and  lighted 
it.  The  smoke  curled  up  in  wreaths  between  a 
powerful  light  and  the  peculiar  instrument,  while 
Craig  peered  through  a  lens,  manipulating  the  thing 
with  exhaustless  patience  and  skill.  I  watched  him 
curiously,  but  said  nothing,  for  he  was  studying 
something  carefully,  and  I  did  not  want  to  interrupt 
his  train  of  thought. 

Finally  he  beckoned  me  over.  "  Can  you  make 
anything  out  of  that?  "  he  asked. 

I  looked  through  the  eye-piece,  also.  On  a  sort 
of  fine  grating  all  I  could  see  was  a  number  of 
strange  lines. 

"  If  you  want  an  opinion  from  me,"  I  said,  with  a 
laugh,  "  you'll  have  to  tell  me  first  what  I  am  look 
ing  at." 

"  That,"  he  explained,  as  I  continued  to  gaze, 
"  is  one  of  the  latest  forms  of  the  spectroscope, 
known  as  the  interferometer,  with  delicately  ruled 
gratings  in  which  power  to  resolve  the  straight, 
close  lines  in  the  spectrum  is  carried  to  the  limit  of 
possibility.  A  small  watch  is  delicate.  But  it  bears 
no  comparison  to  the  delicacy  of  these  defraction 
spectroscopes. 

"  Every  substance,  you  know,  is,  when  radiating 
light,  characterized  by  what  at  first  appears  to  be 
almost  haphazard  sets  of  spectral  bands  without  re- 


1 64         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

lation  to  one  another.  But  they  are  related  by 
mathematical  laws,  and  the  apparent  haphazard 
character  is  only  the  result  of  our  lack  of  knowledge 
of  how  to  interpret  the  results." 

He  resumed  his  place  at  the  eye-piece  to  check 
over  his  results. 

"  Walter,"  he  said  finally,  looking  up  at  me  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  I  wish  that  you'd  go  out  and 
find  me  a  cat." 

"  A  cat?"  I  repeated. 

"  Yes,  a  cat — felis  domesticus,  if  it  sounds  better 
that  way — a  plain,  ordinary  cat." 

I  jammed  on  my  hat  and,  late  as  it  was,  sallied 
forth  on  this  apparently  ridiculous  mission. 

Several  belated  passers-by  and  a  policeman 
watched  me  as  though  I  were  a  house-breaker,  and 
I  felt  like  a  fool,  but  at  last,  by  perseverance  and 
tact,  I  managed  to  capture  a  fairly  good  specimen 
of  the  species,  and  carried  it  in  my  arms  to  the  labo 
ratory  with  some  profanity  and  many  scratches. 


XV 
THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS 

IN  my  absence  Craig  had  set  to  work  on  a  peculiar 
apparatus,  as  though  he  were  distilling  some 
thing  from  several  of  the  cigarette  stubs  which  he 
had  been  studying  by  means  of  the  interferometer. 

"  Here's  your  confounded  cat,"  I  ejaculated,  as 
I  placed  the  unhappy  feline  in  a  basket  and  waited 
patiently  until  finally  he  seemed  to  be  rewarded  for 
his  patient  labours.  It  was  well  along  toward  morn 
ing  when  he  obtained  in  a  test-tube  a  few  drops  of  a 
colourless,  odourless  liquid. 

"  My  interferometer  gave  me  a  clue,"  he  remarked, 
as  he  held  the  tube  up  with  satisfaction.  "  Without 
the  tell-tale  line  in  the  spectrum  which  I  was  able 
to  discover  by  its  use  I  might  have  been  hunting  yet 
for  it.  It  is  so  rare  that  no  one  would  ever  have 
thought,  offhand,  I  suppose,  to  look  for  it.  But 
here  it  is,  I'm  sure,  only  I  wanted  to  be  able  to 
test  it." 

u  So  you  are  not  going  to  try  it  on  yourself,"  I 
said  sarcastically,  referring  to  his  last  experiment 
with  a  poison.  "  This  time  you  are  going  to  make 
the  cat  the  dog." 

"  The  cat  will  be  better  to  test  it  on  than  a  human 
being,"  he  replied,  with  a  glance  that  made  me 

165 


r6e»         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

wince,  for,  after  his  performance  with  the  curare,  I 
felt  that  once  the  scientific  furore  was  on  him  I 
might  be  called  upon  to  become  an  unwilling  martyr 
to  science. 

It  was  with  an  air  of  relief,  both  for  himself  and 
my  own  peace  and  safety,  that  I  saw  him  take  the 
cat  out  of  the  basket  and  hold  her  in  his  arms, 
smoothing  her  fur  gently,  to  quiet  the  feelings  that  I 
had  severely  ruffled. 

Then  with  a  dropper  he  sucked  up  a  bit  of  the 
liquid  from  the  test-tube.  I  watched  him  intently  as 
he  let  a  small  drop  fall  into  the  eye  of  the  cat. 

The  cat  blinked  a  moment,  and  I  bent  over  to 
observe  it  more  closely. 

"  It  won't  hurt  the  cat,"  he  explained,  "  and  it 
may  help  us." 

As  I  looked  at  the  cat's  eye  it  seemed  to  enlarge, 
even  under  the  glare  of  a  light,  shining  forth,  as  it 
were,  like  the  proverbial  cat's  eye  under  a  bed. 

What  did  it  mean? 

Was  there  such  a  thing,  I  wondered  hastily,  as 
the  drug  of  the  evil  eye? 

"What  have  you  found?"  I  queried. 

"  Something  very  much  like  the  so-called  '  weed 
of  madness,'  I  think,"  he  replied  slowly. 

"  The  weed  of  madness?"  I  repeated. 

"  Yes.  It  is  similar  to  the  Mexican  toloache  and 
the  Hindu  datura,  which  you  must  have  heard 
about." 

I  had  heard  of  these  weird  drugs,  but  they  had 
always  seemed  to  be  so  far  away  and  to  belong 


THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS  167 

rather  to  the  atmosphere  of  civilizations  different 
from  New  York.  Yet,  I  reflected,  what  was  to  pre 
vent  the  appearance  of  anything  in  such  a  cosmo 
politan  city,  especially  in  a  case  so  unusual  as  that 
which  had  so  far  baffled  even  Kennedy's  skill? 

"  You  know  the  jimson  weed — the  Jamestown 
weed,  as  it  is  so  often  called?"  he  continued,  ex 
plaining.  "  It  grows  almost  everywhere  in  the 
world,  but  most  thrivingly  in  the  tropics.  All  the 
poisons  that  I  have  mentioned  are  related  to  it  in 
some  way,  I  believe." 

"  I've  seen  the  thing  in  lots  and  fields,"  I  replied, 
"  but  I  never  thought  it  was  of  much  importance." 

"  Well,"  he  resumed,  "  the  jimson  weed  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  in  some  parts  of  the  Andes,  has  large 
white  flowers  which  exhale  a  faint,  repulsive  odour. 
It  is  a  harmless-looking  plant,  with  its  thick  tangle 
of  leaves,  a  coarse  green  growth,  with  trumpet- 
shaped  flowers.  But  to  one  who  knows  its  properties 
it  is  quite  too  dangerously  convenient  for  safety." 

"  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the  evil  eye?  "  I 
asked. 

"Nothing;  but  it  has  much  to  do  with  the  ciga 
rettes  that  Whitney  is  smoking,"  he  went  on  posi 
tively.  "  Those  cigarettes  have  been  doped !  " 

"Doped?"  I  interrogated,  in  surprise.  "With 
this  weed  of  madness,  as  you  call  it?  " 

"  No,  it  isn't  toloache  that  was  used,"  he  cor 
rected.  "  I  think  it  must  be  some  particularly  viru 
lent  variety  of  the  jimson  weed  that  was  used, 
though  that  same  weed  in  Mexico  is,  I  am  sure, 


1 68          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

what  there  they  call  toloache.  Perhaps  its  virulence 
in  this  case  lies  in  the  method  of  concentration  in 
preparing  it.  For  instance,  the  seeds  of  the  stra 
monium,  which  is  the  same  thing,  contain  a  much 
higher  percentage  of  poison  than  the  leaves  and 
flowers.  Perhaps  the  seeds  were  used.  I  can't  say. 
But,  then,  that  isn't  at  all  necessary.  It  is  the  fact 
of  its  use  that  concerns  us  most  now." 

He  took  a  drop  of  the  liquid  which  he  had  iso 
lated  and  added  a  drop  of  nitric  acid.  Then  he 
evaporated  it  by  gentle  heat  and  it  left  a  residue 
slightly  yellow. 

Next  he  took  from  the  shelf  over  his  table  a  bottle 
marked  "  Alcoholic  Solution — Potassium  Hydrate." 
He  opened  it  and  let  a  drop  fall  on  the  place  where 
the  liquid  had  evaporated. 

Instantly  the  residue  became  a  beautiful  purple, 
turning  rapidly  to  violet,  then  to  dark  red,  and, 
finally,  it  disappeared  altogether. 

"  Stramonium,  all  right,"  he  nodded,  with  satis 
faction  at  the  achievement  of  his  night's  labours. 
"  That  was  known  as  Vitali's  test.  Yes,  there  was 
stramonium  in  those  cigarettes — datura  stramonium 
— perhaps  a  trace  of  hyoscyamine." 

I  tried  to  look  wise,  but  all  I  could  think  of  was 
that,  whatever  his  science  showed  me  now,  my  in 
stinct  had  been  enough  to  prompt  me  not  to  smoke 
those  cigarettes,  though,  of  course,  only  Kennedy's 
science  could  tell  what  it  was  that  caused  that  in 
stinctive  aversion. 

"  They  are  all  like  atropine,  mydriatic  alkaloids," 
he  proceeded,  "  so  called  from  the  effect  they  have  on 


THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS  169 

the  eye.  Why,  one-one  hundred  thousandth  of  a 
grain  will  affect  the  eye  of  a  cat.  You  saw  how  it 
acted  on  our  subject.  It  is  more  active  in  that  way 
than  atropine.  Better  yet,  you  remember  how  Whit 
ney's  eyes  looked,  how  Inez  said  her  father  stared, 
and  how  she  feared  for  Lockwood?" 

"  I  remember,"  I  said,  still  not  able  to  detach 
the  evil-eye  idea  quite  from  my  mind.  "  How  about 
the  Sefiora's  eyes?  What  makes  them  so — well,  ef 
fective?" 

"  Oh,"  Craig  answered  quickly,  "  her  pupils  were 
normal  enough.  Didn't  you  notice  that?  It  was 
the  difference  in  Whitney's  and  the  others'  that  first 
suggested  making  some  tests." 

"What  is  the  effect?"  I  asked,  wondering 
whether  it  might  have  contributed  to  the  cause  of 
Mendoza's  death. 

"  The  concentrated  poison  which  has  been  used 
in  these  cigarettes  does  not  kill — at  least  not  out 
right.  It  is  worse  than  that.  Slowly  it  accumulates 
in  the  system.  It  acts  on  the  brain." 

I  was  listening,  spellbound,  as  he  made  his  dis 
closure.  No  wonder,  I  thought,  even  a  scientific 
criminal  stood  in  awe  of  Craig. 

"  Of  all  the  dangers  to  be  met  with  in  supersti 
tious  countries,  these  mydratic  alkaloids  are  among 
the  worst.  They  offer  a  chance  for  crimes  of  the 
most  fiendish  nature — worse  than  with  the  gun  or 
the  stiletto.  They  are  worse  because  there  is  so 
little  fear  of  detection.  That  crime  is  the  produc 
tion  of  insanity !  " 

Horrible  though  the  idea,  and  repulsive,  I  could 


170         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

not  doubt  it  in  the  face  of  Craig's  investigations  and 
what  I  had  already  seen  with  my  own  eyes.  In  fact, 
it  was  necessary  for  me  only  to  recall  the  mild  sen 
sations  I  myself  had  experienced,  in  order  to  be 
convinced  of  the  possible  effect  intended  by  the  in 
sidious  poison  contained  in  the  many  cigarettes  which 
Whitney,  for  instance,  had  smoked. 

"But  don't  you  suppose  they  know  it?"  I  won 
dered.  "Can't  they  tell  it?" 

"  I  suppose  they  have  gradually  become  accus 
tomed  to  it,"  Craig  ventured.  "  If  you  have  ever 
smoked  one  particular  brand  of  cigarette  you  must 
have  noticed  how  the  manufacturer  can  gradually 
substitute  a  cheaper  grade  of  tobacco  without  any 
large  number  of  his  patrons  knowing  anything  about 
it.  I  imagine  it  might  have  been  done  in  some  way 
like  that." 

"  But  you  would  think  they'd  feel  the  effect  and 
attribute  it  to  smoking." 

"  Perhaps  they  do  feel  the  effect.  But  when  it 
comes  to  tracing  causes,  some  people  are  loath  to  ad 
mit  that  tobacco  and  liquor  can  be  the  root  of  the 
evil.  No,  some  one  is  slipping  these  cigarettes  in 
on  them,  perhaps  substituting  the  doped  brand  for 
those  that  are  ordered.  If  you  will  notice,  both 
Whitney  and  Lockwood  have  cigarettes  that  are 
made  especially  for  them.  So  had  Mendoza.  It  is 
a  circumstance  which  some  one  has  turned  to  ac 
count,  though  how  and  by  whom  the  substitution 
has  been  made  I  cannot  say  yet.  I  wish  I  had  time  to 
follow  out  this  one  line,  to  the  exclusion  of  every 
thing  else.  But  I've  got  to  keep  my  fingers  on  every 


THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS  171 

rope  at  once,  else  the  thing  will  pull  away  from  me. 
It  is  enough  for  the  present  that  we  know  what  the 
poison  is.  I  shall  take  up  the  tracing  of  the  person 
who  is  administering  it  the  moment  I  get  a  hint." 

It  was  almost  daylight  before  Craig  and  I  left 
the  laboratory  after  his  discovery  of  the  manner  of 
the  cigarette  poisoning  by  stramonium.  But  that  was 
the  only  way  in  which  he  was  able  to  make  progress — 
taking  time  for  each  separate  point  by  main  force. 

I  was  thoroughly  tired,  though  not  so  much  so 
that  my  dreams  were  not  haunted  by  a  succession 
of  baleful  eyes  peering  at  me  from  the  darkness. 

I  slept  late,  but  was  awakened  by  a  knocking  on 
the  door.  As  I  rose  to  answer  it  I  saw  through  the 
open  door  of  Kennedy's  room  that  he  had  been 
about  early  and  must  already  be  at  the  laboratory. 
How  he  did  it  I  don't  know.  My  own  newspaper 
experience  had  made  me  considerable  of  a  night- 
hawk.  But  I  always  paid  for  it  by  sleeping  the 
next  day.  With  Kennedy,  when  he  was  on  a  case, 
even  five  hours  of  sleep  was  more  than  he  seemed 
able  to  stand. 

"  Hello,  Jameson,"  greeted  a  voice,  as  I  opened 
the  door.  "  Is  Kennedy  in — oh,  he  hasn't  come  back 
yet?" 

It  was  Lockwood,  at  first  eager  to  see  Craig,  then 
naturally  crestfallen  because  he  saw  that  he  was  not 
there. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  rubbing  my  eyes.  "  He  must 
be  at  the  laboratory.  If  you'll  wait  a  minute  while 
I  slip  on  my  clothes,  I'll  walk  over  there  with  you." 

While  I  completed  my  hasty  toilet,  Lockwood  sat 


172         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

in  our  living  room,  gazing  about  with  fascination  at 
the  collection  of  trophies  of  the  chase  of  criminals. 

;'  This  is  positively  a  terrifying  array  of  mate 
rial,  Jameson,"  he  declared,  as  at  last  I  emerged. 
"  Between  what  Kennedy  has  here  and  what  he  has 
stowed  away  in  that  laboratory  of  his,  I  wonder  that 
any  one  dares  be  a  crook." 

I  could  not  help  eying  him  keenly.  Could  he  have 
spoken  so  heartily  if  he  had  known  what  it  was, 
damning  to  himself,  that  Kennedy  had  tucked  away 
in  the  laboratory?  If  he  knew,  he  must  have  been 
a  splendid  actor,  one  of  those  whom  only  the  minute 
blood-pressure  test  of  the  sphygmograph  could  in 
duce  to  give  up  a  secret,  and  then  only  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  I  agreed.    "  Are  you  ready?  " 

We  left  the  apartment  and  walked  along  in  the 
bracing  morning  air  toward  the  campus  and  the 
Chemistry  Building.  Sure  enough,  as  I  had  ex 
pected,  Kennedy  was  in  his  laboratory. 

As  we  entered  he  was  verifying  his  experiments 
and  checking  over  his  results,  carefully  endeavour 
ing  to  isolate  any  of  the  other  closely  related  mydri- 
atic  alkaloids  that  might  be  contained  in  the  noxious 
fumes  of  the  poisoned  tobacco. 

Though  Craig  was  already  convinced  of  what  was 
going  on,  I  knew  that  he  always  considered  it  a 
matter  of  considerable  medico-legal  importance  to 
be  exact,  for  if  the  affair  ever  came  to  the  stage  of 
securing  an  indictment  the  charge  could  be  sustained 
only  by  specific  proof. 


THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS  173 

As  we  appeared  in  the  door,  however,  he  laid 
aside  his  work,  and  greeted  us. 

"  I  suppose  Jameson  has  already  told  you  that  I 
called  you  up  last  night — and  what  I  said?  "  began 
Lockwood. 

Kennedy  nodded.  "  It  was  something  about  Nor 
ton,  wasn't  it?  " 

Lockwood  leaned  over  impressively  and  almost 
whispered:  "Of  course,  you  are  in  no  position  to 
know,  but  there  are  ugly  rumours  current  down  in 
Lima  among  the  natives  regarding  that  dagger." 

Kennedy  did  not  appear  to  be  particularly  im 
pressed.  "Is  that  so?"  he  said  merely.  "What 
are  they?  " 

"  Well,"  resumed  Lockwood,  "  I  wasn't  in  Lima 
at  the  time.  I  was  up  here.  But  they  tell  me  that 
there  was  something  crooked  about  the  way  that 
that  dagger  was  got  away  from  an  Indian — a  brother 
of  Senora  de  Moche." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Kennedy,  "  I  know  something 
about  it.  He  committed  suicide.  But  what  has  that 
to  do  with  Norton?  " 

Lockwood  hesitated,  then  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  I  should  think  the  inference  was  plain,"  he  insinu 
ated.  Then,  looking  at  Craig  fixedly,  as  though  to 
take  his  measure,  he  added,  "  We  are  not  out  of 
touch  with  what  is  going  on  down  there,  even  if  we 
are  several  thousand  miles  away." 

I  wondered  whether  he  had  any  information  more 
than  we  had  already  obtained  by  X-raying  the  letter 
to  Whitney  signed  "  Haggerty."  If  he  had,  it  was 


174         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

not  his  purpose,  evidently,  yet  to  disclose  it.  I  felt 
from  his  manner  that  he  was  not  playing  a  trump- 
card,  but  was  just  feeling  us  out  by  this  lead. 

"  There  was  some  crooked  business  about  that 
dagger  down  there  as  well  as  here,"  he  pursued. 
"  There  are  many  interests  connected  with  it.  Don't 
you  think  that  it  would  be  worth  while  watching 
Norton?"  he  paused,  then  added:  "We  do — and 
we're  going  to  do  it." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  returned  Kennedy 
quietly.  "  Mr.  Whitney  has  already  told  me  he  in 
tended  to  do  so." 

Lockwood  eyed  us  critically,  as  though  not  quite 
sure  what  to  make  of  the  cool  manner  in  which 
Craig  took  it. 

"  I  think  if  I  were  you,"  he  said  at  length,  "  I'd 
keep  a  close  watch  on  the  de  Moches,  both  of  them, 
too." 

"  Exactly,"  agreed  Craig,  without  showing  undue 
interest. 

Lockwood  had  risen.  "  Well,"  he  snapped, 
"  you  may  not  think  much  of  what  I  am  telling  you 
now.  But  just  wait  until  our  detectives  begin  to  dig 
up  facts." 

No  sooner  had  he  left  than  I  turned  to  Craig. 
"  What  was  that?  "  I  asked.  "  A  plant?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  he  returned,  clearing  up  the  mate 
rials  which  he  had  been  using. 

The  telephone  rang. 

"  Hello,  Norton,"  I  heard  Craig  answer. 
"What's  that?  You  are  shadowed  by  some  one — 
you  think  it  is  by  Whitney?  " 


THE  WEED  OF  MADNESS  175 

I  had  been  expecting  something  of  the  sort,  and 
listened  attentively,  but  it  was  impossible  to  gather 
the  drift  of  the  one-sided  conversation. 

As  Kennedy  hung  up  the  receiver  I  remarked, 
"  So  it  was  not  a  bluff,  after  all." 

"  I  think  my  plan  is  working,"  he  remarked 
thoughtfully.  "You  heard  what  he  said?  He 
guesses  right  the  first  time,  that  it  is  Whitney.  The 
last  thing  he  said  was,  Til  get  even !  I'll  take  some 
action ! '  and  then  he  rang  off.  I  think  we'll  hear 
something  soon." 

Instead  of  going  out,  Kennedy  pulled  out  the  sev 
eral  unsigned  letters  we  had  collected,  and  began  the 
laborious  process  of  studying  the  printing,  analyz 
ing  it,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  discover  some  new 
clue. 


XVI 

THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL 

PERHAPS  an  hour  later  our  laboratory  door  was 
flung  open  suddenly,  and  both  Kennedy  and  I 
leaped  to  our  feet. 

There  was  Inez  Mendoza,  alone,  pale  and  agi 
tated. 

"  Tell  me,  Professor  Kennedy,"  she  cried,  her 
hands  clasped  before  her  in  frantic  appeal,  "  tell 
me — it  isn't  true — is  it?  He  wasn't  there — no — no 
—no !  " 

She  would  have  fainted  if  Craig  had  not  sprung 
forward  and  caught  her  in  time  to  place  her  in  our 
only  easy-chair. 

"  Walter,"  he  said,  "  quick — that  bottle  of  aro 
matic  spirits  of  ammonia  over  there — the  second 
from  the  left." 

I  handed  it  to  him,  and  threw  open  the  window 
to  allow  the  fresh  air  to  blow  in.  As  I  did  so  one 
of  the  papers  Kennedy  had  been  studying  blew  off 
the  table,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  fell  almost  be 
fore  her.  She  saw  it,  and  in  her  hypersensitive  con 
dition  recognized  it  instantly. 

"  Oh — that  anonymous  letter !  "  she  cried.  "  Tell 
me — you  do  not  think  that — the  friend  of  my  father's 

that  it  warned  me  to  beware  of — was " 

176 


THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL  177 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  She  did  not  need 
to  do  so. 

"  Please,  Senorita,"  pleaded  and  soothed  Ken 
nedy,  "  try  to  be  calm.  What  has  happened?  Tell 
me.  What  is  it?" 

The  ammonia  and  the  fresh  air  seemed  to  have 
done  their  work,  for  she  managed  to  brace  herself, 
gripping  the  arms  of  the  chair  tightly  and  looking 
up  searchingly  into  Craig's  face. 

"  It's  about  Chester,"  she  managed  to  gasp;  then 
seemed  unable  to  go  on. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  her  use 
Lockwood's  first  name,  and  I  knew  that  something 
had  stirred  her  emotions  more  deeply  than  at  any 
time  since  the  death  of  her  father. 

"  Yes,"  prompted  Kennedy.    "  Go  on." 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  found  foot-prints,  shoe- 
prints,  in  the  dust  in  the  Museum  after  the  dagger 
was  stolen,"  she  said,  speaking  rapidly,  suppress 
ing  her  feelings  heroically.  "  Since  then  you  have 
been  collecting  prints  of  shoes — and  I've  heard  that 
the  shoe-prints  that  were  found  are  those  of — of 
Mr.  Lockwood.  Oh,  Professor  Kennedy,  it  cannot 
be — there  must  be  some  mistake." 

For  a  moment  Kennedy  did  not  say  anything.  He 
was  evidently  seeking  some  way  in  which  to  lead 
up  to  the  revelation  of  the  truth  without  too  much 
shock. 

"  You  remember  that  time  in  the  tea  room  when 
we  were  sitting  with  Sefiora  de  Moche?  "  he  asked 
finally. 


178          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Yes,"  she  said  shortly,  as  though  the  very  rec 
ollection  were  disagreeable  to  her. 

Kennedy,  however,  had  a  disagreeable  task,  and 
he  felt  that  it  must  be  performed  in  the  kindest  man 
ner. 

"  You  remember  then  that  she  said  she  had  one 
thing  more  to  say,  that  it  was  about  Mr.  Whitney 
and  Mr.  Lockwood." 

She  was  about  to  interrupt,  but  he  hurried  on, 
giving  her  no  chance  to  do  so.  "  She  asked  you  to 
think  it  over.  Suppose  they  did  not  have  the  dag 
ger,  she  said.  Then  were  their  chances  of  finding 
the  treasure  any  better  than  any  one  else  had?  And 
if  they  did  have  it,  she  asked  what  that  meant.  It 
is  a  dilemma,  my  dear  Senorita,  which  you  must 
meet  some  time.  Why  not  meet  it  now?  " 

Her  face  was  set.  "  You  will  remember,  also, 
Professor  Kennedy,"  she  said,  with  a  great  effort 
controlling  her  voice,  "  that  I  said  that  Mr.  Lock- 
wood  was  not  there  to  defend  himself  and  I  would 
not  have  him  attacked  by  innuendo.  I  meant  it  to 
the  Senora — I  mean  it  to  you !  " 

She  had  also  meant  it  to  defy  him;  but  as  she 
proceeded  her  voice  broke,  and  before  she  knew  it 
her  nature  had  triumphed,  and  she  was  alternately 
sobbing  and  pleading. 

For  a  minute  or  two  Kennedy  let  her  give  vent  to 
her  emotions. 

"  It  cannot  be.  It  cannot  be,"  she  sobbed  over  and 
over.  "  He  could  not  have  been  there.  He  could 
not  have  done  it." 


THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL  179 

It  was  a  terrible  thing  to  have  to  disillusion  her, 
but  it  was  something  now  that  had  to  be  done. 
Kennedy  had  not  sought  to  do  so.  He  had  post 
poned  it  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  other  way. 
But  now  the  thing  was  forced  upon  him. 

"  Who  told  you?  "  he  asked  finally. 

"  I  was  trying  to  read,  to  keep  my  mind  occu 
pied,  as  you  asked  me,  when  Juanita  told  me  that 
there  was  some  one  in  the  living  room  who  wanted  to 
see  me — a  man.  I  thought  it  was  either  you  or  Mr. 
Jameson.  But  it  was — Professor  Norton " 

Kennedy  and  I  exchanged  glances.  That  was  the 
action  in  revenge  to  Lockwood  and  Whitney  which 
he  had  contemplated  over  the  telephone.  It  was  so 
cruel  and  harsh  that  I  could  have  hated  him  for  it, 
the  more  so  as  I  recollected  that  it  was  he  himself 
who  had  cautioned  us  against  doing  the  very  thing 
which  now  he  had  done  in  the  heat  of  passion. 

"  Oh,"  she  wailed,  "  he  was  very  kind  and  con 
siderate  about  it.  He  said  he  felt  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  tell  me,  that  he  would  be  anything,  like  an 
older  brother,  to  me ;  that  he  could  not  see  me  blinded 
any  longer  to  what  was  going  on,  and  everybody 
knew,  but  had  not  love  enough  for  me  to  tell.  It 
was  such  a  shock.  I  could  not  even  speak.  I  simply 
ran  from  the  room  without  another  word  to  him,  and 
Juanita  found  me  lying  on  the  bed.  Then — I  de 
cided — I  would  come  to  you." 

She  paused,  and  her  great,  deep  eyes  looked  up 
pathetically.  "  And  you,"  she  added  bitterly,  "  you 
are  going  to  tell  me  that  he  was  right,  that  it  is  true. 


i8o         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

You  can't  prove  it.  Show  me  what  it  is  that  you 
have.  I  defy  you !  " 

Somehow,  as  she  rested  and  relieved  her  feelings, 
a  new  strength  seemed  to  come  to  her.  It  was  what 
Kennedy  had  been  waiting  for,  the  reaction  that 
would  leave  her  able  for  him  to  go  on  and  plan  for 
the  future. 

He  reached  into  a  drawer  of  a  cabinet  and  pulled 
out  the  various  shoe-prints  which  he  had  already 
shown  Norton,  and  which  he  had  studied  and  re- 
studied  so  carefully. 

"  That  is  the  print  of  the  shoe  in  the  dust  of  the 
Egyptian  sarcophagus  of  the  Museum,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  Some  one  got  in  during  the  daytime  and 
hid  there  until  the  place  was  locked.  That  is  the 
print  of  Alfonso  de  Moche's  shoe,  that  of  Mr.  Whit 
ney's,  and  that  of  Mr.  Lockwood's." 

He  said  it  quickly,  as  though  trying  to  gloss  it 
over.  But  she  would  not  have  it  that  way.  She 
felt  stronger,  and  she  was  going  to  see  just  what 
there  was  there.  She  took  the  prints  and  studied 
them,  though  her  hand  trembled.  Hers  was  a  re 
markable  mind.  It  took  only  seconds  to  see  what 
others  would  have  seen  only  in  minutes.  But  it  was 
not  the  reasoning  faculty  that  was  aroused  by  what 
she  saw.  It  sank  deep  into  her  heart. 

She  flung  the  papers  down. 

"  I  don't  believe  it!  "  she  defied.  "  There  is  some 
mistake.  No — it  cannot  be  true !  " 

It  was  a  noble  exhibition  of  faith.  I  think  I  have 
never  seen  any  instant  more  tense  than  that  in  Ken 
nedy's  laboratory.  There  stood  the  beautiful  girl 


THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL  181 

declaring  her  faith  in  her  lover,  rejecting  even  the 
implication  that  it  might  have  been  he  who  had 
taken  the  dagger,  perhaps  murdered  her  father  to  in 
sure  the  possession  of  her  father's  share  of  the 
treasure  as  well  as  the  possession  of  herself. 

Kennedy  did  not  try  to  combat  it.  Instead  he 
treated  her  very  intuitions  with  respect.  In  him 
there  was  room  for  both  fact  and  feeling. 

"  Senorita,"  he  said  finally,  in  a  voice  that  was 
deep  and  thrilling  with  feeling,  "  have  I  ever  been 
other  than  a  friend  to  you?  Have  I  ever  given  you 
cause  to  suspect  even  one  little  motive  of  mine?" 

She  faced  him,  and  they  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes  an  instant.  But  it  was  long  enough  for  the 
man  to  understand  the  woman  and  she  to  under 
stand  him. 

"  No,"  she  murmured,  glancing  down  again. 

"  Then  trust  me  just  this  once.    Do  as  I  ask  you." 

For  an  instant  she  struggled  with  herself.  What 
would  he  ask? 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  questioned,  raising  her  eyes  to 
him  again. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Lockwood?  " 

"No."  ' 

"  Then,  I  want  you  to  see  him.  Surely  you  wish 
to  have  no  secrets  from  him  any  more  than  you 
would  wish  him  to  have  anything  secret  from  you. 
See  him.  Ask  him  frankly  about  it  all.  It  is  the 
only  fair  thing  to  him — it  is  only  fair  to  yourself." 

Senorita  Mendoza  was  no  coward.  "  I — I  will," 
she  almost  whispered. 

"  Splendid !  "  exclaimed  Kennedy  in  admiration. 


1 82         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  I  knew  that  you  would.  You  are  not  the  woman 
who  could  do  otherwise.  May  I  see  that  you  get 
home  safely?  Walter,  call  a  taxicab." 

Senorita  Mendoza  was  calmer,  though  pale  and 
still  nervous,  when  I  returned.  Kennedy  handed  her 
into  the  car  and  then  returned  to  the  laboratory  for 
two  rather  large  packages,  which  he  handed  to  me. 

"  You  must  come  along  with  us,  Walter,"  he  said. 
"  We  shall  need  you." 

Scarcely  a  word  was  spoken  as  we  jolted  over  the 
city  pavements  and  at  last  reached  the  apartment. 
Inez  and  Craig  entered  and  I  followed,  carrying 
just  one  of  the  packages  as  Craig  had  indicated  by 
dumb  show,  leaving  the  other  in  the  car,  which  was 
to  wait. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  write  him  a  note,"  sug 
gested  Craig,  as  we  entered  the  living  room.  "  I 
don't  want  you  to  see  him  until  you  feel  better — and, 
by  the  way,  see  him  here." 

She  nodded  with  a  wan  smile,  as  though  thinking 
how  unusual  it  was  for  a  meeting  of  lovers  to  be  an 
ordeal,  then  excused  herself  to  write  the  note. 

She  had  no  sooner  disappeared  than  Kennedy 
unwrapped  the  package  which  I  had  brought.  From 
it  he  took  a  cedar  box,  oblong,  with  a  sort  of  black 
disc  fixed  to  an  arm  on  the  top.  In  the  face  of  the 
box  were  two  little  square  holes,  with  sides  of  cedar 
which  converged  inward  into  the  box,  making  a  pair 
of  little  quadrangular  pyramidal  holes  which  ended 
in  a  small  black  circle  in  the  interior. 

He  looked  about  the  room  quickly.     Beside  a 


THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL  183 

window  that  opened  out  over  a  house  several  stones 
below  stood  a  sectional  bookcase.  Into  this  book 
case,  back  of  the  books,  in  the  shadow,  he  shoved 
the  little  box,  to  which  he  had  already  attached  a 
spool  of  twisted  wires.  Then  he  opened  the  window 
and  dropped  the  spool  out,  letting  it  unwind  of  its 
own  weight  until  it  fell  on  the  roof  far  below.  He 
shut  the  window  and  rejoined  me  without  a  word. 

A  moment  later  she  returned  with  the  dainty  note 
which  she  had  written.  "  Shall  I  send  it  by  a  mes 
senger?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  please,"  answered  Kennedy,  rising.  As  he 
moved  a  step  to  the  door  he  held  out  his  hand  to 
her.  "  Senorita  Mendoza,"  he  said  simply,  in  a 
tone  that  meant  more  than  words,  "  you  are  a  won 
derful  woman." 

She  took  his  hand  without  a  word,  and  a  moment 
later  we  were  whisked  down  in  the  elevator. 

"  I  must  get  on  that  roof  on  some  pretext,"  re 
marked  Kennedy,  as  we  reached  the  street  and  he  got 
his  bearings.  "  Let  me  see,  that  house  which  backs 
up  to  the  apartment  is  around  the  corner.  Have 
the  man  drive  us  around  there." 

We  located  the  house  and  mounted  the  steps.  On 
the  wall  beside  the  brownstone  door  was  pasted  a 
little  slip  of  paper,  "  Furnished  Rooms." 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Kennedy,  as  he  read  it. 
"  Dismiss  the  taxi  and  meet  me  inside  with  the  other 
package." 

By  the  time  I  had  paid  the  man  and  come  up  the 
steps  again  Kennedy  had  made  a  dicker  with  the 


1 84         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

landlady  for  a  double  room  on  the  third  floor  for 
both  of  us,  and,  by  payment  of  a  week's  rent,  we 
were  to  have  immediate  possession. 

"  Our  baggage  will  follow  to-day,"  he  explained, 
as  we  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  room. 

I  thought  the  landlady  would  never  get  through 
expatiating  upon  what  a  select  place  she  ran,  and 
thus  leave  us  alone  in  our  room,  but  at  last  even 
her  flood  of  words  was  stilled  by  demands  from  a 
servant  downstairs  who  must  be  instructed  if  the 
selectness  of  the  establishment  were  to  be  main 
tained. 

No  sooner  were  we  alone  than  Kennedy  tiptoed 
into  the  hall  and  made  sure  that  we  were  not 
watched.  It  was  then  the  work  of  only  a  few  sec 
onds  to  mount  a  ladder  to  a  scuttle,  unhook  it,  and 
gain  the  roof. 

There,  dangling  down  from  the  dizzy  height 
above,  swayed  the  twisted  wire.  He  seized  it,  un 
rolled  it  some  more,  and  sent  me  downstairs  to 
catch  it,  as  he  swung  it  over  the  edge  of  the  roof 
to  one  of  our  own  windows.  Then  he  rejoined  me. 

The  other  package,  which  had  been  heavier,  con 
sisted  of  another  of  those  mysterious  boxes,  as  well 
as  several  dry  cells.  Quickly  he  attached  the  wires 
to  the  box,  placing  the  dry  cells  in  the  circuit.  Then 
he  began  adjusting  the  mechanism  of  the  box.  So 
far  I  had  only  a  vague  idea  of  just  what  he  had  in 
mind,  but  gradually  it  began  to  dawn  on  me. 

It  was  perhaps  half  an  hour,  perhaps  longer, 
after  we  had  left  the  Sefiorita,  before,  sure  that 


THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL  185 

everything  was  all  right  with  his  line  and  the  bat 
teries  which  he  had  brought,  Kennedy  turned  a  little 
lever  that  moved  in  a  semicircle,  touching  one  after 
another  of  a  series  of  buttons  on  the  face  of  the 
cedar  box,  meanwhile  holding  a  little  black  disc  from 
the  back  of  the  box  to  his  ear  as  he  adjusted  the 
thing. 

Nothing  seemed  to  happen,  but  I  could  tell  by 
the  look  of  intentness  on  his  face  that  he  was  get 
ting  along  all  right  and  was  not  worrying. 

Suddenly  the  look  on  his  face  changed  to  one  of 
extreme  satisfaction.  He  dropped  the  disc  he  was 
holding  to  his  ear  back  into  its  compartment  and 
turned  to  me. 

All  at  once  it  seemed  as  if  the  room  in  which  we 
were  was  peopled  by  spirits.  There  was  the  sound 
of  voices,  loud,  clear,  distinct.  It  was  uncanny. 

"  He  has  just  come  in,"  remarked  Craig. 

"Who?"  I  asked. 

"Lockwood — can't  you  recognize  his  voice? 
Listen." 

I  did  listen  intently,  and  the  more  my  ears  became 
adjusted,  the  more  plainly  I  could  distinguish  two 
voices,  that  of  a  man  and  that  of  a  woman.  It  was 
indeed  Lockwood  and  the  Senorita,  far  above  us. 

I  would  have  uttered  an  exclamation  of  amaze 
ment,  but  I  could  not  miss  what  they  were  saying. 

"Then  you — you  believe  what  he  says?"  asked 
Lockwood  earnestly. 

"  Professor  Kennedy  has  the  prints,"  replied  Inez 
tremulously. 


1 86         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"You  saw  them?" 

11  Yes." 

"  And  you  believe  what  he  says,  too?  " 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  What  is  it?  "  I  asked,  tapping  the  box  lightly. 

"  A  vocaphone,"  replied  Kennedy.  "  The  little 
box  that  hears  and  talks." 

"Can  they  hear  us?"  I  asked,  in  an  awestruck 
whisper. 

"  Not  unless  I  want  them  to  hear,"  he  replied,  in 
dicating  a  switch.  "  You  remember,  of  course,  the 
various  mechanical  and  electrical  ears,  such  as  the 
detectaphone,  which  we  have  used  for  eavesdrop 
ping  in  other  cases?  " 

I  nodded. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  new  application  which  has  been 
made  of  the  detectaphone.  When  I  was  using  that 
disc  from  the  compartment  there,  I  had  really  a 
detectaphone.  But  this  is  even  better.  You  see 
how  neat  it  all  is?  This  is  the  detective  service,  and 
more.  We  can  '  listen  in '  and  we  don't  have  to 
use  ear-pieces,  either,  for  this  is  a  regular  loud- 
speaking  telephone — it  talks  right  out  in  meeting. 
Those  square  holes  with  the  converging  sides  act  as 
a  sort  of  megaphone  to  the  receivers,  those  little 
circles  back  there  inside  magnifying  the  sound  and 
throwing  it  out  here  in  the  room,  so  that  we  can 
hear  just  as  well  as  if  we  were  up  there  in  the  room 
where  they  are  talking.  Listen — I  think  they  are 
talking  again." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  Whitney  and  I  have 


THE  EAR  IN  THE  WALL  187 

placed  detectives  on  the  trail  of  Norton,"  we  could 
hear  Lockwood  say. 

"You  have?"  came  back  the  answer  in  a  voice 
which  for  the  first  time  sounded  cold. 

Lockwood  must  have  recognized  it.  He  had  made 
a  mistake.  It  was  no  sufficient  answer  to  anything 
that  he  had  done  to  assert  that  some  one  else  had  also 
done  something. 

"  Inez,"  he  said,  and  we  could  almost  hear  his 
feet  as  he  moved  over  the  floor  in  her  direction  in  a 
last  desperate  appeal,  "  can't  you  trust  me,  when  I 
tell  you  that  everything  is  all  right,  that  they  are 
trying  to  ruin  me — with  you?  " 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  we  could  almost 
hear  her  quick  breath  come  and  go. 

"  Women — not  even  Peruvian  women  are  like  the 
women  of  the  past,  Chester,"  she  said  at  length. 
"  We  are  not  playthings.  Perhaps  we  have  hearts — 
but  we  also  have  heads.  We  are  not  to  be  taken 
up  and  put  down  as  you  please.  We  may  love — but 
we  also  think.  Chester,  I  have  been  to  see  Professor 
Kennedy,  and 

She  stopped.  It  hurt  too  much  to  repeat  what 
she  had  seen. 

"  Inez,"  he  implored. 

There  was  evidently  a  great  struggle  of  love  and 
suspicion  going  on  in  her,  her  love  of  him,  her 
memory  of  her  father,  the  recollection  of  what  she 
had  heard  and  seen.  No  one  could  have  been  as 
we  were  without  wishing  to  help  her.  Yet  no  one 


1 88          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

could  help  her.  She  must  work  out  her  own  life 
herself. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  finally,  the  struggle  ended. 
"What  is  it?" 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  the  truth?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured. 

His  voice  was  low  and  tense. 

"  I  was  there — yes — but  the  dagger  was  gone !  " 


XVII 
THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  AIR 

O  you  believe  it?  "  I  asked  Kennedy,  as  the 
voices  died  away,  leaving  us  with  a  feeling 
that  some  one  had  gone  out  of  the  very  room  in 
which  we  were. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  nothing.  But 
I  cannot  say  that  he  seemed  ill  pleased  at  the  result 
of  the  interview. 

"  We'll  just  keep  this  vocaphone  in,"  he  remarked. 
"  It  may  come  in  handy  some  time.  Now,  I  think 
we  had  better  go  back  to  the  laboratory  1  Things 
have  begun  to  move." 

On  the  way  back  he  stopped  to  telephone  Norton 
to  meet  us  and  a  few  minutes  after  we  arrived,  the 
archaeologist  entered. 

Kennedy  lost  no  time  in  coming  directly  to  the 
point,  and  Norton  could  see,  in  fact  seemed  to  ex 
pect  and  be  prepared  for  what  was  coming. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Kennedy,  "  you've  done  it, 
this  time !  " 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  ask,"  returned 
Norton.  "  You  are  going  to  ask  me  why  I  did  it. 
And  I'm  going  to  tell  you.  After  I  left  you,  the 
other  day,  I  thought  about  it  a  long  time.  The  more 
I  thought,  the  more  of  a  shame  it  seemed  to  me 
that  a  girl  like  that  should  be  made  a  victim  of  her 

189 


190 

feelings.  It  wasn't  so  much  what  they  have  done 
to  me  that  made  me  do  it.  I  would  have  acted  the 
same  if  it  had  been  de  Moche  instead  of  Lockwood 
who  was  playing  on  her  heart.  I  was  afraid,  to 
tell  the  truth,  that  you  wouldn't  tell  her  until  it  was 
too  late.  And  she's  too  good  to  throw  herself  away 
and  allow  her  fortune  to  be  wasted  by  a  couple  of 
speculators." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Craig.  "  For  the  sake  of  argu 
ment,  let  us  admit  all  that.  What  did  you  expect  to 
accomplish  by  it?  " 

"  Why — put  an  end  to  it,  of  course." 

"  But  do  you  think  she  was  going  to  accept  as 
truth  what  you  told  her?  Would  that  be  natural 
for  one  so  high-strung?  " 

"  Perhaps  not — right  away.  But  I  supposed  she 
would  come  to  you — as  I  see  she  has,  for  you  know 
about  it.  After  that,  it  was  only  a  question  of  time. 
It  may  have  been  a  heroic  remedy,  but  the  disease 
was  critical." 

"  Suppose,"  suggested  Craig,  "  that,  after  all,  he 
told  her  that  he  was  there  in  the  Museum,  but  that 
he  did  not  get  the  dagger.  And  suppose  that  she 
believed  it.  What  then?  " 

Norton  looked  up  quickly.  "  Did  he  tell  her 
that?  " 

"  I  am  supposing  that  he  did,"  repeated  Craig, 
declining  to  place  himself  in  a  position  which  might 
lead  to  disclosing  how  he  found  out. 

"  Then  I  should  say  that  he  was  a  great  deal 
cleverer  than  I  gave  him  credit  for  being,"  returned 
Norton. 


THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  AIR       191 

"  Well,  it's  done  now,  and  can't  be  undone.  Have 
you  found  out  anything  about  the  de  Moches?  " 

"  Not  very  much,  I  must  admit.  Of  course,  you 
know  I'm  not  on  the  best  of  terms  with  them,  for 
some  reason  or  other.  But  I've  been  around  the 
Prince  Edward  Albert  a  good  deal,  and  I  don't 
think  they've  been  able  to  do  much  that  I  haven't 
some  kind  of  line  on.  Alfonso  seems  to  be  moping. 
His  professors  here  tell  me  that  he  has  been  neglect 
ing  his  work  sadly  for  the  past  few  days.  The 
Seriora  and  Whitney  seem  to  be  as  friendly  as  ever. 
I  should  say  that  they  were  going  the  pace  fast,  and 
it  shows  on  him." 

I  glanced  significantly  at  Kennedy,  but  he  be 
trayed  nothing  that  might  lead  one  to  suppose  he 
had  discovered  the  cause.  Evidently  he  was  not 
ready  yet  to  come  out  into  the  open  and  expected 
further  developments  on  the  poisoned  cigarette  clue. 

The  telephone  rang  and  Craig  took  down  the  re 
ceiver. 

"  Yes,  this  is  Kennedy,"  he  answered.  "  Oh,  hello, 
Lockwood.  What's  that?  You've  been  trying  to  get 
me  all  day?  I  just  came  in.  Why,  yes,  I  can  see 
you  in  about  half  an  hour." 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  clear  out,"  said  Norton  with 
a  bitter  laugh,  as  Kennedy  hung  up  the  receiver. 
"  There  have  been  enough  crimes  committed  with 
out  adding  another  murder  to  the  list." 

"  Keep  on  watching  the  de  Moches,"  requested 
Kennedy  as  Norton  made  his  way  to  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Norton.  "  They  will  bear  it — 
particularly  Alfonso.  They  are  hot-blooded.  You 


1 92         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

never  know  what  they  are  going  to  do,  and  they 
keep  their  own  counsel.  I  might  hope  that  Lock- 
wood  would  forget;  but  a  de  Moche — never." 

I  cannot  say  that  I  envied  him  very  much,  for 
doubtless  what  he  said  was  true,  though  his  danger 
might  be  mitigated  by  the  fact  that  the  dagger  was 
no  longer  in  his  Museum.  Still,  it  would  never  have 
left  Peru,  I  reflected,  if  it  had  not  been  for  him, 
and  there  is,  even  in  the  best  of  us,  a  smouldering 
desire  for  revenge. 

Lockwood  was  more  than  prompt.  I  had  expected 
that  he  would  burst  into  the  laboratory  prepared  to 
clean  things  out.  Instead  he  came  in  as  though 
nothing  at  all  had  happened. 

"  There's  no  use  mincing  words,  Kennedy,"  he 
began.  "  You  know  that  I  know  what  has  hap 
pened.  That  scoundrel,  Norton,  has  told  Inez  that 
you  had  shoe-prints  of  some  one  who  was  in  the 
Museum  the  night  of  the  robbery  and  that  those 
shoe-prints  correspond  with  mine.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  Kennedy,  I  was  there.  I  was  there  to  get  the 
dagger.  But  before  I  could  get  it,  some  one  else 
must  have  done  so.  It  was  gone." 

I  wanted  to  believe  Lockwood.  As  for  Craig  he 
said  nothing. 

"  Then,  when  I  did  have  a  chance  to  get  away 
that  night,"  he  continued,  "  I  went  over  to  Men- 
doza's.  The  rest  you  know." 

"You  have  told  Inez  that?"  asked  Kennedy  in 
order  to  seem  properly  surprised. 

"  Yes — and  I  think  she  believes  me.     I  can't  say. 


193 

Things  are  strained  with  her.  It  will  take  time. 
I'm  not  one  of  those  who  can  take  a  girl  by  main 
force  and  make  her  do  what  she  won't  do.  I  wish 
I  could  smooth  things  over.  Let  me  see  the  prints." 

Kennedy  handed  them  over  to  him.  He  looked 
at  them,  long  and  closely,  then  handed  back  the 
damning  evidence  against  himself. 

"  I  know  it  would  be  no  use  to  destroy  these,"  he 
remarked.  "  In  the  first  place  that  would  really 
incriminate  me.  And  in  the  second  I  suppose  you 
have  copies." 

Craig  smiled  blandly. 

"  But  I  can  tell  you,"  he  exclaimed,  bringing  his 
fist  down  on  the  laboratory  table  with  a  bang,  "  that 
before  I  lose  that  girl,  somebody  will  pay  for  it — 
and  there  won't  be  any  mistakes  made,  either." 

The  scowl  on  his  face  and  the  menacing  look  in 
his  eye  showed  that  now,  with  his  back  up  against 
the  wall,  he  was  not  bluffing. 

He  seemed  to  get  little  satisfaction  out  of  his 
visit  to  us,  and  in  fact  I  think  he  made  it  more  in 
a  spirit  of  bravado  than  anything  else. 

Lockwood  had  scarcely  gone  before  Kennedy 
pulled  out  the  University  schedule,  and  ran  his  fin 
ger  down  it. 

"  Alfonso  ought  to  be  at  a  lecture  in  the  School 
of  Mines,"  he  said  finally,  folding  up  the  paper.  "  I 
wish  you'd  go  over  and  see  if  he  is  there,  and,  if 
he  is,  ask  him  to  step  into  the  laboratory." 

The  lecture  was  in  progress  all  right,  but  when  I 
peered  into  the  room  it  was  evident  that  de  Moche 


194         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

was  not  there.  Norton  was  right.  The  young  man 
was  neglecting  his  work.  Evidently  the  repeated  re 
buffs  of  Inez  had  worked  havoc  with  him. 

Nor  was  he  at  the  hotel,  as  we  found  out  by  call 
ing  up. 

There  was  only  one  other  place  that  I  could  think 
of  where  he  would  be  likely  to  be  and  that  was  at  the 
apartment  of  Inez.  Apparently  the  same  idea  oc 
curred  to  Kennedy,  for  he  suggested  going  back  to 
our  observation  point  in  the  boarding-house  and  find 
ing  out. 

All  the  rest  of  the  day  we  listened  through  the 
vocaphone,  but  without  finding  out  a  thing  of  in 
terest.  Now  and  then  we  would  try  the  detective 
instrument,  the  little  black  disc  in  the  back,  but  with 
no  better  success.  Then  we  determined  to  listen  in 
relays,  one  listening,  while  the  other  went  out  for 
dinner. 

It  must  have  been  just  a  bit  after  dark  that  we 
could  hear  Inez  talking  in  a  low  tone  with  Juanita. 

A  buzzing  noise  indicated  that  there  was  some  one 
at  the  hall  door. 

"  If  it's  any  one  for  me,"  we  heard  Inez  say, 
"  tell  them  that  I  will  be  out  directly.  I'm  not  fit  to 
be  seen  now." 

The  door  was  opened  and  a  voice  which  we  could 
not  place  asked  for  the  senorita.  A  moment  later 
Juanita  returned  and  asked  the  visitor  to  be  seated  a 
few  moments. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  were  suddenly  aware 
that  there  was  another  person  in  the  room.  We 


THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  AIR       195 

could  hear  whispers.  The  faithful  little  vocaphone 
even  picked  them  up  and  shot  them  down  to  us. 

"  Is  everything  all  right?  "  whispered  one,  a  new 
voice  which  was  somewhat  familiar  I  thought,  but 
disguised  beyond  recognition. 

"  Yes.     She'll  be  out  in  a  minute." 

"  Now,  remember  what  I  told  you.  If  this  thing 
works  you  get  fifty  dollars  more.  I'd  better  put  this 
mask  on — damn  it! — the  slit's  torn.  It'll  do.  I'll 
hide  here  as  soon  as  we  hear  her.  That's  a  pretty 
nice  private  ambulance  you  have  down  there.  Did 
you  tell  the  elevator  boy  that  she  had  suddenly 
been  taken  ill?  That's  all  fixed,  then.  I've  got  the 
stuff — amyl  nitrite — she'll  go  off  like  a  shot.  But 
we'll  have  to  work  quick.  It  only  keeps  her  under  a 
few  minutes.  I  can't  wear  this  mask  down  and  I'm 
afraid  some  one  will  recognize  me.  Oh,  you  brought 
a  beard.  Good.  I'll  give  you  the  signal.  There 
must  be  no  noise.  Yes,  I  saw  the  stretcher  where 
you  left  it  in  the  hall." 

"  All  right,  Doc,"  returned  the  first  and  un 
familiar  voice. 

It  all  happened  so  quickly  that  we  were  completely 
bowled  over  for  the  moment.  Who  was  the  man 
addressed  as  "Doc"?  There  was  no  time  to  find 
out,  no  time  to  do  anything,  apparently,  so  quickly 
had  the  plot  been  sprung. 

I  looked  at  Kennedy,  aghast,  not  knowing  what 
to  do  in  this  unexpected  crisis. 

A  moment  later  we  heard  a  voice,  "  I'm  sorry  to 


196          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

have  had  to  keep  you  waiting,  but  what  is  it  that  I 
can  do  for  you?  " 

"  Good  God!  "  exclaimed  Kennedy.  "  It  is  Inez 
herself!" 

It  was  altogether  too  late  to  get  over  there  to 
warn  her,  perhaps  even  to  rescue  her.  What  could 
we  do?  If  we  could  only  shout  for  help.  But  what 
good  would  that  do,  around  a  corner  and  so  far 
away? 

The  vocaphone  itself! 

Quickly  Kennedy  turned  another  switch,  of  a  rheo 
stat,  which  accentuated  a  whisper  to  almost  a  shout. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Senorita,"  he  cried.  "  This 
is  Kennedy  talking.  Look  under  the  bookcase  by 
the  window.  You  will  find  a  cedar  box.  It  is  a 
detective  vocaphone  through  which  I  can  hear  you 
and  which  is  talking  out  to  you.  I  have  heard  some 
thing  just  there  just  now " 

"Yes,  yes.    Goon!" 

"  You  are  threatened.    Shout!    Shout!" 

Just  then  there  came  a  sound  of  a  scuffle  and  a 
muffled  cry  which  was  not  much  above  a  whisper,  as 
though  a  strong  hand  was  clapped  over  her  mouth. 

What  could  we  do? 

"  Juanita  —  Juanita  —  help !  —  police !  "  shouted 
Craig  himself  through  the  vocaphone. 

An  instant  later  we  could  hear  other  screams  as 
Juanita  heard  and  spread  the  alarm,  not  a  second  too 
soon. 

"  Come  on,  Walter,"  shouted  Kennedy  dashing 


THE  VOICE  FROM  THE  AIR       197 

out  of  the  room,  now  that  he  was  assured  the  alarm 
had  been  given. 

We  hurried  around  the  corner,  and  into  the  apart 
ment.  One  of  the  elevators  was  up,  and  no  one 
was  running  the  other,  but  we  opened  the  gates  and 
Kennedy  ran  it  up  by  himself. 

In  the  Mendoza  apartment  all  was  a  babel  of 
voices,  every  one  talking  at  once. 

"  Did  you  get  them?  "  Craig  asked,  looking  about. 

"  No,  sir,  replied  the  elevator  boy.  "  One  of 
them  came  in  from  the  ambulance  and  told  me  Miss 
Mendoza  was  suddenly  taken  sick.  He  rode  up 
with  the  stretcher.  The  other  one  must  have  walked 
up." 

"  Do  you  know  him?  Has  he  ever  been  here 
before?" 

"  I  can't  say,  sir.  I  didn't  see  him.  At  least, 
sir,  when  I  heard  the  screams  I  ran  in  from  the 
elevator,  which  the  other  one  told  me  to  wait  with — 
left  the  door  open.  Just  as  I  ran  in,  they  dodged 
out  past  me,  jumped  into  the  car  and  rode  down.  I 
guess  they  must  have  had  the  engine  of  the  ambu 
lance  motor  running,  sir,  if  they  got  away  without 
you  seeing  them." 

We  were  too  late  to  head  them  from  speeding 
off.  But,  at  least,  we  had  saved  the  Senorita.  She 
was  terribly  upset  by  the  attack,  much  shaken,  but 
really  all  right. 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  it  could  be?"  asked 
Craig  as  the  faithful  Juanita  cared  for  her. 

"  I  don't  know  the  man  who  was  waiting  and 


1 98         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

'Nita  never  saw  him,  either,"  she  replied.  "  The 
one  who  jumped  out  from  behind  the  portieres  had 
on  a  mask  and  a  false  beard.  But  I  didn't  recognize 
anything  about  him." 

Sudden  as  the  attack  had  been  and  serious  as 
might  have  been  the  outcome,  we  could  not  but  feel 
happy  that  it  had  been  frustrated. 

Yet  it  seemed  that  some  one  ought  to  be  dele 
gated  to  see  that  such  a  thing  could  not  occur  again. 

"  We  must  think  up  some  means  of  protecting 
you,"  soothed  Kennedy.  "  Let  me  see,  Mr.  Lock- 
wood  and  Mr.  Whitney  seem  to  be  the  closest  to 
you.  If  you  don't  mind  I'll  call  them  up.  I  wonder 
if  you'd  object  if  we  had  a  little  luncheon  up  here, 
to-morrow?  I  have  a  special  reason  for  asking  it. 
I  want  to  insure  your  safety  and  we  may  as  well 
meet  on  common  ground." 

"  There  isn't  the  slightest  objection  in  the  world," 
she  replied,  as  Kennedy  reached  for  the  telephone. 

We  had  some  little  difficulty  in  locating  both 
Lockwood  and  Whitney,  but  finally  after  a  time 
managed  to  find  them  and  arrange  for  the  confer 
ence  on  the  Senorita's  safety  for  the  next  day. 

Outside  Kennedy  gave  instructions  to  the  officer 
on  the  beat  to  watch  the  apartment  particularly,  and 
there  was  no  reason  now  to  fear  a  repetition  of  the 
attempt,  at  least  that  night. 


XVIII 
THE  ANTIDOTE 

EARLY  the  following  morning  Kennedy  left  me 
alone  in  the  laboratory  and  made  a  trip  down 
town,  where  he  visited  a  South  American  tobacco 
dealer  and  placed  a  rush  order  for  a  couple  of  hun 
dred  cigarettes  exactly  similar  in  shape  and  quality 
to  those  which  Mendoza  had  smoked  and  which  the 
others  seemed  also  to  prefer,  except,  however,  that 
the  deadly  drug  was  left  out. 

While  he  was  gone,  it  occurred  to  me  to  take  up 
again  the  hunt  for  Alfonso.  Norton  was  not  in  his 
little  office,  nor  could  I  find  Alfonso  anywhere  about 
the  campus.  In  fact  he  seemed  to  have  almost 
dropped  out  of  his  University  work  for  the  time. 
Accordingly,  I  turned  my  steps  toward  the  Prince 
Edward  Albert  Hotel,  in  the  hope  that  he  might 
be  there. 

Inquiries  of'  the  clerk  at  the  desk  told  me  that  he 
had  been  there,  but  was  out  just  at  that  moment.  I 
did  not  see  Whitney  around,  nor  the  Senora,  so  I 
sat  down  to  wait,  having  nothing  better  to  do  until 
Kennedy's  return. 

I  was  about  to  give  it  up  and  go,  when  I  heard  a 
cab  drive  up  to  the  door  and,  looking  up,  I  saw 
Alfonso  get  out.  He  saw  me  about  the  same  time 

199 


200         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

and  we  bowed.  I  do  not  think  he  even  tried  to 
avoid  me. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  for  some  time,"  I  remarked, 
searching  his  face,  which  seemed  to  me  to  be  paler 
than  it  had  been. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  I  haven't  been  feeling  very 
well  lately  and  I've  been  running  up  into  the  country 
now  and  then  to  a  quiet  hotel — a  sort  of  rest  cure, 
I  suppose  you  would  call  it.  How  are  you  ?  How  is 
Senorita  Inez?  " 

"  Very  well,"  I  replied,  wondering  whether  he 
had  said  what  he  did  in  the  hope  of  establishing 
a  complete  alibi  for  the  events  of  the  night  before. 

Briefly  I  told  him  what  had  happened,  omitting 
reference  to  the  vocaphone  and  our  real  part  in  it. 

"  That  is  terrible,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  if  she 
would  only  allow  me  to  take  care  of  her — I  would 
take  her  back  to  our  own  country,  where  she  would 
be  safe,  far  away  from  these  people  who  seek  to 
prey  on  all  of  us." 

He  paced  up  and  down  nervously,  and  I  could  see 
that  my  information  had  added  nothing  to  his  peace 
of  mind,  though,  at  the  same  time,  he  had  betrayed 
nothing  on  his  part. 

"  I  was  just  passing  through,"  I  said  finally,  look 
ing  at  my  watch,  "  and  happened  to  see  you.  I  hope 
your  mother  is  well?  " 

"  As  well  as  is  to  be  expected,  surrounded  by 
people  who  watch  every  act,"  he  replied,  I  thought 
with  a  rap  at  us  for  having  Norton  about  and  so 
active,  though  I  could  not  be  sure. 


THE  ANTIDOTE  201 

We  separated,  and  I  hastened  back  to  the  labora 
tory  to  report  to  Craig  that  Alfonso  was  rusticating 
for  his  health. 

Kennedy,  on  his  part,  had  had  an  experience, 
though  it  was  no  more  conclusive  than  my  own. 
After  he  had  left  the  tobacco  district,  he  had  walked 
up  Wall  Street  to  the  subway.  In  the  crowd  he 
had  seen  Senora  de  Moche,  although  she  had  not 
seen  him.  He  had  turned  and  followed  her  until 
she  entered  the  building  in  which  Whitney  and  his 
associates  had  their  offices.  Whether  it  indicated 
that  she  was  still  leading  them  a  chase,  or  they  her, 
was  impossible  to  determine,  but  it  at  least  showed 
that  they  were  still  on  friendly  terms  with  each 
other. 

In  the  laboratory  he  could  always  find  something 
to  do  on  the  case,  either  in  perfecting  his  chemical 
tests  of  the  various  drugs  we  had  discovered,  or  in 
trying  to  decipher  some  similarities  in  the  rough 
printing  of  the  four  warnings  and  the  anonymous 
letter  with  the  known  handwriting  of  those  connected 
with  the  case,  many  specimens  of  which  he  had  been 
quietly  collecting.  That  in  itself  was  a  tremendously 
minute  job,  entailing  not  only  a  vast  amount  of  ex 
pert  knowledge  such  as  he  had  collected  in  his  years 
of  studying  crime  scientifically,  but  the  most  exact 
measurements  and  careful  weighing  and  balancing  of 
trifles,  which  to  the  unscientific  conveyed  no  meanings 
at  all.  Still,  he  seemed  to  be  forging  ahead,  though 
he  never  betrayed  what  direction  the  evidence 
seemed  to  be  taking. 


202         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

The  package  of  cigarettes  which  he  had  ordered 
downtown  was  delivered  about  an  hour  after  his 
return  and  seemed  to  be  the  signal  for  him  to  drop 
work,  for  the  meeting  with  Lockwood  and  Whitney 
had  been  set  early.  He  stowed  the  package  in  his 
pockets  and  then  went  over  to  a  cabinet  in  which  he 
kept  a  number  of  rather  uncommon  drugs.  From  it 
he  took  a  little  vial  which  he  shoved  into  his  waist 
coat  pocket. 

"  Are  you  ready,  Walter?  "  he  asked. 

"  Whenever  you  are,"  I  said,  laying  aside  my 
writing. 

Together  we  made  our  way  down  to  the  Mendoza 
apartment  which  had  been  the  scene  of  the  near- 
tragedy  the  night  before.  Outside,  he  paused  for  sev 
eral  moments  to  make  inquiries  about  any  suspicious 
persons  that  might  have  been  seen  lurking  about 
the  neighbourhood.  None  of  the  attendants  in  the 
apartment  remembered  having  seen  any,  and  they 
were  now  very  alert  after  the  two  events,  the  mur 
der  and  the  attempted  abduction.  Not  a  clue  seemed 
to  have  been  left  by  the  villain  who  had  been  called 
"  Doc." 

"  How  do  you  feel  after  your  thrilling  experi 
ence?"  greeted  Craig  pleasantly,  as  Juanita  ad 
mitted  us  and  Inez  came  forward. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Kennedy,"  she  answered,  with  a  note 
of  sadness  in  her  tone.  "  It  makes  me  feel  so  alone 
in  the  world.  If  it  were  not  for  'Nita — and  you, 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  do." 


THE  ANTIDOTE  203 

"Doesn't  Mr.  Lockwood  count?"  asked  Ken 
nedy  observantly. 

"  Of  course — everything,"  she  answered  hastily. 
"  But  he  has  to  be  away  so  much  on  business, 
and " 

She  paused  and  sighed.  I  could  not  help  wonder 
ing  whether,  after  all,  his  explanation  of  the  dagger 
episode  had  been  enough  to  satisfy  her.  Had  she 
really  accepted  it? 

Neither  Lockwood  nor  Whitney  had  arrived,  and 
Kennedy  improved  the  opportunity  to  have  a  quiet 
talk  aside  with  her,  at  which,  I  imagine,  he  was 
arranging  a  programme  of  what  was  to  happen  at 
this  meeting  and  her  part  in  it  to  co-operate  with 
him. 

She  had  left  the  room  for  a  moment  and  we  were 
alone.  It  was  evidently  a  part  of  his  plan,  for  no 
sooner  was  she  gone  than  he  opened  the  package 
of  cigarettes  which  he  had  ordered  and  took  out 
from  the  box  in  which  Mendoza  had  kept  his  cigar 
ettes  those  that  were  there,  substituting  those  he 
had  brought. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait,  now.  Lockwood  and 
Whitney  came  together.  I  was  interested  to  see  the 
greeting  of  Inez  and  her  lover.  Was  it  pure  fancy, 
or  did  I  detect  a  trace  of  coldness  as  though  there 
had  sprung  up  something  between  them?  As  far 
as  Lockwood  was  concerned,  I  felt  sure  that  he  was 
eager  to  break  down  any  barrier  that  kept  them 
from  being  as  they  had  been. 

Whitney  took  her  hand  and  held  it,  in  a  playful 


204         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

sort  of  way.  "  I  wish  I  were  a  young  buck,"  he 
smiled.  "  No  one  would  dare  look  at  you — much 
less  try  to  carry  you  off.  Yes,  we  must  be  more 
careful  of  our  little  beauty,  or  we  shall  lose  her." 

They  turned  to  greet  us.  I  felt,  as  we  shook 
hands,  that  it  was  much  the  same  sort  of  handshake 
that  one  sees  in  the  prize  ring — to  be  followed  by  the 
clang  of  a  bell,  then  all  going  to  it,  in  battle  royal, 
with  the  devil  after  the  hindmost. 

There  was  scarcely  a  chance  for  a  preliminary 
bout  before  luncheon  was  announced,  and  we  en 
tered  the  cozy  little  dining-room  to  seat  ourselves 
at  the  daintiest  of  tables.  One  could  feel  the  hostess 
radiating  hospitality,  even  on  such  a  cross-current 
set  of  guests  as  we  were,  and  for  the  time,  I  almost 
felt  that  it  had  been  Kennedy's  purpose  to  promote 
a  love-feast  instead  of  an  armed  truce. 

Nothing  was  said  about  the  main  cause  of  our 
being  together  for  some  time,  and  the  small  talk 
almost  lifted  for  a  time  the  incubus  that  had  settled 
down  on  all  our  lives  since  the  tragedy  in  the  den 
at  the  other  end  of  the  suite.  But  the  fact  could 
not  be  blinked. 

Tacitly  every  one  seemed  to  wait  on  Kennedy  to 
sound  the  gong.  Finally  he  did  so. 

"  Of  course,"  he  began,  clearing  his  throat, 
"  there  is  no  use  making  believe  about  anything.  I 
think  we  all  understand  each  other  better  now  than 
we  have  ever  done  before.  As  for  me,  I  am  in  this 
case  under  a  promise  to  stick  to  it  and  fight  it  to  the 
end.  I  suppose  the  rest  of  you  are,  also.  But  that 


THE  ANTIDOTE  205 

need  not  prevent  us  agreeing  on  one  thing.  We 
can  work  together  to  protect  Senorita  Mendoza,  at 
least,  from  such  danger  as  threatened  her  last 
night." 

"  It's  a  dastardly  shame,"  Lockwood  exclaimed 
angrily,  "  that  a  man  who  would  attempt  a  thing 
like  that  should  go  unpunished." 

"  Show  me  how  to  trace  him  and  I'll  guarantee  the 
punishment,"  rejoined  Craig  drily. 

"  I  am  not  a  detective,"  replied  Lockwood. 

Kennedy  forebore  to  reply  in  kind,  though  I  knew 
there  was  a  ready  answer  on  his  tongue  for  the 
lover. 

Ever  since  they  had  arrived,  the  Senorita  had 
seen  that  they  were  well  supplied  with  cigarettes 
from  the  case  in  which  she  and  they  supposed  were 
the  genuine  South  American  brand  of  her  father. 
Kennedy  and  I  smoked  them,  too,  although  neither 
of  us  liked  them  very  much.  The  others  were 
smoking  furiously. 

"  However,"  resumed  Kennedy,  "  I  do  not  feel 
that  I  want  to  intrude  myself  in  this  matter  without 
being  perfectly  frank  and  having  the  approval  of 
Senorita  Mendoza.  She  has  known  both  of  you 
longer  and  more  intimately  than  she  has  known  me, 
although  she  has  seen  fit  to  place  certain  of  her 
affairs  in  my  hands,  for  which  I  trust  I  shall  render 
a  good  account  of  my  stewardship.  It  seems  to  me, 
though,  that  if  there  is,  as  we  now  know  there  is, 
some  one  whom  we  do  not  know  " — he  paused — 
"  who  has  sunk  so  low  as  to  wish  to  carry  her  off, 


206         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

apparently  where  she  shall  be  out  of  the  influence 
of  her  friends,  it  is  only  right  that  precautions 
should  be  taken  to  prevent  it." 

"  What  is  your  suggestion?"  demanded  Whit 
ney,  rather  contentiously. 

"  Would  there  be  any  objection,"  asked  Kennedy, 
"  if  I  should  ask  my  old  friend, — or  any  of  you 
may  do  it, — Deputy  Commissioner  O'Connor  to  de 
tail  a  plainclothesman  to  watch  this  house  and 
neighbourhood,  especially  at  night?" 

We  watched  the  faces  of  the  others.  But  it  was 
really  of  no  use. 

"  I  think  that  is  an  excellent  plan,"  decided  Inez 
herself.  "  I  shall  feel  much  safer  and  surely  none 
of  you  can  be  jealous  of  the  city  detectives." 

Kennedy  smiled.  She  had  cut  the  Gordian  knot 
with  a  blow.  Neither  Lockwood  nor  Whitney  could 
object.  The  purpose  of  the  luncheon  was  ac 
complished. 

In  fact  he  did  not  wait  for  further  consideration, 
but  excused  himself  from  the  table  for  a  moment  to 
call  up  our  old  friend  O'Connor  and  tell  him  how 
gravely  his  man  was  needed.  It  was  a  matter  of 
only  a  few  minutes  when  he  returned  from  the  other 
room. 

"  He  will  detail  Burke  for  this  special  service  as 
long  as  we  want  him,"  reported  Craig,  sitting  down 
again. 

Inez  was  delighted,  naturally,  for  the  affair  had 
been  a  terrific  shock  to  her.  I  could  see  how  re 
lieved  she  felt,  for  I  was  sitting  directly  next  to 
her. 


THE  ANTIDOTE  207 

The  maid  had,  meanwhile  brought  in  the  coffee 
and  Inez  had  been  waiting  to  pour  until  Kennedy  re 
turned.  She  did  not  do  so,  now,  either,  however. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  were  waiting  for  some  kind  of 
signal  from  Kennedy. 

"  What   a   splendid  view  of  the   park  you   get 

here,"  remarked  Kennedy  turning  toward  the  long, 

low  windows  that  opened  on  a  balustraded  balcony. 

4  Just  look  at  that  stream  of  automobiles  passing 

on  the  west  drive." 

Common  politeness  dictated  that  all  should  turn 
and  look,  although  there  was  no  novelty  in  the  sight 
for  any  of  us. 

As  I  have  said,  I  was  sitting  next  to  Inez.  To 
me  she  was  a  far  more  attractive  sight  than  any 
view  of  the  park.  I  barely  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Imagine  my  surprise,  then,  at  seeing  her  take  ad 
vantage  of  the  diversion  to  draw  from  the  folds  of 
her  dress  a  little  vial  and  pour  a  bit  of  yellowish, 
syrupy  liquid  into  the  cup  of  coffee  which  she  was 
preparing  for  Whitney. 

I  could  not  help  looking  at  her  quickly.  She 
saw  that  I  had  seen  her  and  raised  her  other  hand 
with  a  finger  to  her  lips  and  an  explanatory  glance 
at  Kennedy  who  was  keeping  the  others  interested. 
Instantly,  I  recognized  the  little  vial  which  Craig 
had  shoved  into  his  waistcoat  pocket.  That  had 
been  the  purpose  of  his  whispered  conference  with 
her  when  we  arrived.  I  said  nothing,  but  determined 
to  observe  more  closely. 

More  coffee  and  more  cigarettes  followed,  al 
ways  from  the  same  box  which  was  now  on  the  table. 


208         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

The  luncheon  developed  almost  a  real  conversation. 
For  the  time,  under  the  spell  of  our  hostess,  we 
nearly  forgot  that  we  were  in  reality  bitter  enemies. 

My  real  interest,  as  time  passed,  centred  in  Whit 
ney  and  I  could  not  help  watching  him  closely.  Was 
it  a  fact,  or  was  it  merely  my  imagination?  He 
seemed  quite  different.  The  pupils  of  his  eyes  did 
not  seem  to  be  quite  so  dilated  as  they  had  been  at 
other  times,  or  even  when  he  arrived.  Even  his 
heart  action  appeared  to  be  more  normal.  I  think 
Inez  noticed  it,  too.  There  was  none  of  the  wild- 
ness  in  his  conversation,  such  as  there  often  had 
been  at  other  times. 

Our  party  was  prolonged  beyond  the  time  we  had 
expected,  but,  although  he  had  much  on  his  mind, 
Kennedy  made  no  move  to  break  it  up.  In  fact  he 
did  everything  to  encourage  it. 

At  last,  however,  the  others  did  notice  the  time, 
and  I  think  it  was  with  sincere  regret  that  the  truce 
was  broken.  Even  then,  no  parting  shots  were  in 
dulged  in. 

As  we  left,  Inez  thanked  Kennedy  for  his  con 
sideration,  and  I  am  sure  that  that  in  itself  was  re 
ward  enough.  We  parted  from  Lockwood,  who 
wished  to  remain  a  little  while,  and  rode  down  in 
the  elevator  with  Whitney,  a  changed  man. 

"  I'll  walk  over  to  the  elevated  with  you,"  he 
said.  "  I  was  going  to  my  hotel,  but  I  think  I'll  go 
down  to  the  office  instead." 

Evidently  he  had  got  Sefiora  de  Moche  out  of 
his  mind,  at  least  temporarily,  I  thought.  Then 


THE  ANTIDOTE  209 

for  the  first  time  I  recalled  that  during  the  whole 
luncheon  there  had  been  no  reference  to  either  the 
Seriora  or  Alfonso,  though  both  must  have  been  in 
our  minds  often. 

"  What  was  it  you  had  Inez  drop  into  Whitney's 
coffee?  "  I  asked  Craig  as  we  parted  from  him  and 
rode  uptown. 

"  You  saw  that?  "  he  smiled.  "  It  was  pilocarpine, 
jaborandi,  a  plant  found  largely  in  Brazil,  one  of 
the  antidotes  for  stramonium  poisoning.  It  doesn't 
work  with  every  one.  But  it  seems  to  have  done 
so  with  him.  Besides,  the  caffeine  in  the  coffee 
probably  aided  the  pilocarpine.  Then,  too,  I  made 
them  smoke  cigarettes  without  the  dope  that  is  being 
fed  them.  Lockwood's  case,  for  some  reason,  hasn't 
gone  far.  But  did  you  notice  how  the  treatment 
contracted  the  pupils  of  Whitney's  eyes  almost  back 
to  normal  again?" 

I  had  and  said  so,  adding,  "  But  what  was  your 
idea?" 

"  I  think  I've  got  at  the  case  from  a  brand-new 
angle,"  he  replied.  "  Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken, 
when  the  person  who  is  doing  the  doping  sees  that 
Whitney  is  getting  better — why,  I  think  you  all 
noticed  it,  Inez  and  Lockwood  as  well  as  you — it 
will  mean  another  attempt  to  substitute  more 
cigarettes  doped  with  that  drug.  I  think  it's  by  sub 
stitution  that  it's  being  done.  We'll  see." 

At  the  laboratory,  Kennedy  called  Norton  and 
described  briefly  what  had  happened,  especially  to 
Whitney. 


210         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Now  is  your  chance,  Norton,"  he  added,  "  to 
do  some  real  good  work.  I  want  some  one  to  watch 
the  Senora,  see  if  she,  too,  notes  the  difference  in 
him.  Understand? " 

"  Perfectly,"  returned  Norton.  "  That  is  some 
thing  I  think  I  can  do/' 


XIX 

THE  BURGLAR  POWDER 

IT  was  not  until  after  dinner  that  we  heard  again 
from  Norton.  He  had  evidently  spent  the  time 
faithfully  hanging  about  the  Prince  Edward  Albert, 
but  Whitney  had  not  come  in,  although  the  Senora 
and  Alfonso  were  about. 

"  I  saw  them  leaving  the  dining-room,"  he  re 
ported  to  us  in  the  laboratory  directly  afterward, 
"  just  as  Whitney  came  in.  They  could  not  see  me. 
I  took  good  care  of  that.  But,  say,  there  is  a 
change  in  Whitney,  isn't  there?  I  wonder  what 
caused  it?  " 

"It's  as  noticeable  as  that?"  asked  Kennedy. 
"  And  did  she  notice  it?  " 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  replied  Norton  confidently. 
"  She  couldn't  help  it.  Besides,  after  he  left  her 
and  went  into  the  dining-room  himself  she  and  Al 
fonso  seemed  to  be  discussing  something.  I'm  sure 
it  was  that." 

Kennedy  said  nothing,  except  to  thank  Norton 
and  compliment  him  on  his  powers  of  observation. 
Norton  took  the  praise  with  evident  satisfaction,  and 
after  a  moment  excused  himself,  saying  that  he  had 
some  work  to  do  over  in  the  Museum. 

He  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Kennedy  took  from 

211 


212         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

a  drawer  a  little  packet  of  powder  and  an  atomizer 
full  of  liquid,  which  he  dropped  into  his  pocket. 

"  I  think  the  Prince  Edward  Albert  will  be  the 
scene  of  our  operations,  to-night,  Walter,"  he  an 
nounced,  reaching  for  his  hat. 

He  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry  and  it  was  not  many 
minutes  before  we  entered.  As  he  passed  the  dining- 
room  he  glanced  in.  There  was  Whitney,  not  half 
through  a  leisurely  dinner.  Neither  of  the  de 
Moches  seemed  to  be  downstairs. 

Kennedy  sauntered  over  to  the  desk  and  looked 
over  the  register.  We  already  knew  that  Whitney 
and  the  Senora  had  suites  on  the  eighth  floor,  on 
opposite  sides  and  at  opposite  ends  of  the  hall.  The 
de  Moche  suite  was  under  the  number  810.  That 
of  Whitney  was  825. 

"Is  either  823  or  827  vacant?"  asked  Kennedy 
as  the  clerk  came  over  to  us. 

He  turned  to  look  over  his  list.  "Yes,  827  is 
vacant,"  he  found. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  it,"  said  Kennedy,  making  some 
excuse  about  our  luggage  being  delayed,  as  he  paid 
for  it  for  the  night. 

"Front!"  called  the  clerk,  and  a  moment  later 
we  found  ourselves  in  the  elevator  riding  up. 

The  halls  were  deserted  at  that  time  in  the  evening 
except  for  a  belated  theatre-goer,  and  in  a  few  min 
utes  there  would  ensue  a  period  in  which  there  was 
likely  to  be  no  one  about. 

We  entered  the  room  next  to  Whitney's  without 
being  observed  by  any  one  of  whom  we  cared.  The 


THE  BURGLAR  POWDER  213 

boy  left  us,  and  it  was  a  simple  matter  after  that  to 
open  a  rather  heavy  door  that  communicated  be 
tween  the  two  suites  and  was  not  protected  by  a 
Yale  lock. 

Instead  of  switching  on  the  lights,  Kennedy  first 
looked  about  carefully  until  he  was  assured  that  there 
was  no  one  there.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  un 
necessary  caution,  for  we  knew  Whitney  was  down 
stairs  and  would  probably  be  there  a  long  time. 
But  he  seemed  to  think  it  necessary.  Positive  that 
we  were  alone,  he  made  a  hasty  survey  of  the  rooms. 
Then  he  seemed  to  select  as  a  starting-point  a  table 
in  one  corner  of  the  sitting-room  on  which  lay  a 
humidor  and  a  heavy  metal  box  for  cigarettes. 

Quickly  he  sprinkled  on  the  floor,  from  the  hall 
door  to  the  table  on  which  the  case  of  cigarettes  lay, 
some  of  the  powder  which  I  had  seen  him  wrap  up  in 
the  laboratory  before  we  left.  Then,  with  the 
atomizer,  he  sprayed  over  it  something  that  had  a 
pungent,  familiar  odour — walking  backwards  from 
the  hall  door  to  the  table,  as  he  sprayed. 

"  Don't  you  want  more  light?"  I  asked,  starting 
to  cross  to  a  window  to  let  the  moonlight  stream  in. 

"  Don't  walk  on  it,  Walter,"  he  whispered,  push 
ing  me  back.  "  No,  I  don't  need  any  more  light." 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  I  asked,  mystified  at  his 
actions. 

"  First  I  sprinkled  some  powdered  iodine  on  the 
floor,"  he  replied,  "  and  then  sprayed  over  just 
enough  ammonia  to  moisten  it.  It  will  evaporate 
quickly,  leaving  what  I  call  my  anti-burglar  powder." 


2i4          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  I'm  sure  I  wouldn't  be  thought  one  of  the  fra 
ternity  for  the  world,"  I  observed,  stepping  aside  to 
give  him  all  the  room  he  wanted  in  which  to 
operate. 

He  had  finished  his  work  by  this  time  and  now 
the  evening  wind  was  blowing  away  the  slight  fumes 
that  had  arisen.  For  a  few  moments  he  left  our 
door  into  Whitney's  room  open,  in  order  to  insure 
clearing  away  the  odour.  Then  he  quietly  closed  it, 
but  did  not  lock  it  again. 

We  waited  a  few  minutes,  then  Craig  leaned  over 
to  me.  "  I  wish  you'd  go  down  and  see  how  near 
Whitney  is  through  dinner,"  he  said.  "  If  he  is 
through,  do  something,  anything  to  keep  him  down 
there.  Only  be  as  careful  as  you  can  not  to  be  seen 
by  any  one  who  knows  us." 

I  rode  down  in  an  empty  elevator  and  cautiously 
made  my  way  to  the  dining-room.  Whitney  had 
finished  much  sooner  than  I  had  expected  and  was 
not  there.  Much  as  I  wanted  not  to  be  seen,  I  found 
that  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  tour  of  the  hotel  to 
find  him  and  I  did  so,  wondering  what  expedient  I 
would  adopt  to  keep  him  down  there  if  I  found  him. 
I  did  not  have  to  adopt  any,  however.  Whitney 
was  almost  alone  in  the  writing-room,  and  a  big  pile 
of  letters  beside  him  showed  me  that  he  would  be 
busy  for  some  time.  I  rode  back  to  the  room  to 
tell  Craig,  flattering  myself  that  I  had  not  been  seen. 

"  Good,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  don't  think  we'll  have 
to  wait  much  longer,  if  anything  at  all  is  going  to 
happen." 


THE  BURGLAR  POWDER  215 

In  the  darkness  we  settled  ourselves  for  another 
vigil  that  was  to  last  we  knew  not  how  long.  Neither 
of  us  spoke  as  we  half  crouched  in  the  shadow  of 
our  room,  listening. 

Slowly  the  time  passed.  Would  any  one  take 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  tamper  with  the 
box  of  cigarettes  on  the  table? 

I  fell  to  speculating.  Who  could  it  possibly  have 
been  that  had  conceived  this  devilish  plot?  What 
was  back  of  it  all?  I  wondered  whether  it  were 
possible  that  Lockwood,  now  that  Mendoza  was 
out  of  the  way,  could  desire  to  remove  Whitney, 
the  sole  remaining  impediment  to  possessing  the 
whole  of  the  treasure  as  well  as  Inez?  Then  there 
were  the  Sefiora  and  Alfonso,  the  one  with  a  deep 
race  and  family  grievance,  the  other  a  rejected  suitor. 
What  might  not  they  do  with  some  weird  South 
American  poison? 

Once  or  twice  we  heard  the  elevator  door  clang 
and  waited  expectantly,  but  nothing  happened.  I 
began  to  wonder  whether,  even  if  some  one  had  a 
pass-key  to  the  suite,  we  could  hear  him  enter  if  he 
was  quiet.  The  outside  hall  was  thickly  carpeted, 
and  deadened  every  footfall  if  one  exercised  only 
reasonable  care.  The  rooms  themselves  were  much 
the  same. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  might  have  the  door  ajar 
a  little?  "  I  suggested  anxiously. 

"  Sh !  "  was  Kennedy's  only  comment  in  the  nega 
tive. 

I   glanced  now  and  then   at  my  watch   and  by 


216         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

straining  my  eyes  was  surprised  to  see  how  early 
it  was  yet.  The  minutes  were  surely  leaden-footed. 

In  the  darkness,  I  fell  again  to  reviewing  the  weird 
succession  of  events.  I  am  not  by  nature  super 
stitious,  but  in  the  black  silence  I  could  well  imagine 
a  staring  succession  of  eyes,  beginning  with  the 
dilated  pupils  of  Whitney  and  passing  on  to  the 
corpse-like  expression  of  Mendoza,  but  always  end 
ing  with  the  remarkable,  piercing,  black  eyes  of  the 
Indian  woman  with  the  melancholy-visaged  son,  as 
they  had  impressed  me  the  first  time  I  saw  them  and, 
in  fact,  ever  since.  Was  it  a  freak  of  my  mind,  or 
was  there  some  reason  for  it? 

Suddenly  I  heard  in  the  next  room  what  sounded 
like  a  series  of  little  explosions,  as  though  some  one 
were  treading  on  match  heads. 

"  My  burglar  powder  works,"  muttered  Craig  to 
me  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  Every  step,  even  those  of 
a  mouse  running  across,  sets  it  off !  " 

He  rose  quickly  and  threw  open  the  door  into 
Whitney's  suite.  I  sprang  after  him. 

There,  in  the  shadows,  I  saw  a  dark  form,  start 
ing  back  in  quick  retreat.  But  we  were  too  late. 
He  was  cat-like,  too  quick  for  us. 

In  the  dim  light  of  the  little  explosions  we  could 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  person  who  had  been  craftily 
working  with  the  dread  drug  to  drive  Whitney  and 
others  insane.  But  the  face  was  masked! 

He  banged  shut  the  door  after  him  and  fled  down 
the  hall,  making  a  turn  to  a  flight  of  steps. 

We  followed,  and  at  the  steps  paused  a  moment. 


THE  BURGLAR  POWDER  217 

"  You  go  up,  Walter,"  shouted  Kennedy.  "  I'll  go 
down." 

It  was  fifteen  minutes  later  before  we  met  down 
stairs,  neither  of  us  with  a  trace  of  the  intruder.  He 
seemed  to  have  vanished  like  smoke. 

"  Must  have  had  a  room,  like  ourselves,"  re 
marked  Craig  somewhat  chagrined  at  the  outcome 
of  his  scheme.  "  And  if  he  was  clever  enough  to 
have  a  room,  he  is  clever  enough  to  have  a  disguise 
that  would  fool  the  elevator  boys  for  a  minute.  No, 
he  has  gone.  But  I'll  wager  he  won't  try  any  more 
substitutions  of  stramonium-poisoned  cigarettes  for 
a  while.  It  was  too  close  to  be  comfortable." 

We  were  baffled  again,  and  this  time  by  a  mys 
terious  masked  man.  Could  it  be  the  same  whom 
we  heard  over  the  vocaphone  addressed  as  "  Doc"? 
Perhaps  it  was,  but  that  gave  us  no  hint  as  to  his 
identity.  He  seemed  just  as  far  away  as  ever. 

We  waited  around  the  elevators  for  some  time,  but 
nothing  happened.  Kennedy  even  sought  out  the 
manager  of  the  hotel,  and  after  telling  who  he  was, 
had  a  search  made  of  the  guests  who  might  be  sus 
pected.  The  best  we  could  do  was  to  leave  word 
that  the  employees  might  be  put  on  the  Jookout  for 
anything  of  a  suspicious  nature. 

Whitney,  the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  commotion, 
was  still  in  the  writing-room  with  his  letters. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  him,"  decided  Kennedy 
as  we  passed  down  the  lobby. 

He  seemed  surprised  to  see  us,   as  we  strolled 


2i8          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

up  to  his  writing  desk,  but  pushed  aside  the  few  letters 
which  he  had  not  finished  and  asked  us  to  sit  down. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  noticed  it,"  be 
gan  Craig,  "  but  I  wonder  how  you  feel?  " 

Whitney  had  expected  something  else  rather  than 
his  health  as  the  subject  of  a  quiz.  "  Pretty  good 
now,"  he  answered  before  he  knew  it,  "  although  I 
must  admit  that  for  the  past  few  days  I  have  won 
dered  whether  I  wasn't  slowing  up  a  bit — or  rather 
going  too  fast." 

"  Would  you  like  to  know  why  you  feel  that 
way?"  asked  Craig. 

Whitney  was  now  genuinely  puzzled.  It  was  per 
fectly  evident,  as  it  had  been  all  the  time,  that  he 
had  not  the  slightest  inkling  of  what  was  going  on. 

As  Craig  briefly  unfolded  what  we  had  discovered 
and  the  reason  for  it,  Whitney  watched  him  aghast. 

"  Poisoned  cigarettes,"  he  repeated  slowly. 
"  Well,  who  would  ever  have  thought  it  You  can 
bet  your  last  jitney  I'll  be  careful  what  I  smoke  in 
the  future,  if  I  have  to  smoke  only  original  packages. 
And  it  was  that,  partly,  that  ailed  Mendoza?  " 

Kennedy  nodded.  "  Don't  take  any  pilocarpine, 
just  because  I  told  you  that  was  what  I  used.  You 
have  given  yourself  the  best  prescription,  just  now. 
Be  careful  what  you  smoke.  And,  don't  get  excited 
if  you  seem  to  be  stepping  on  matches  up  there  in 
your  room  for  a  little  while,  either.  It's  nothing." 

Whitney's  only  known  way  of  thanking  anybody 
was  to  invite  them  to  adjourn  to  the  cafe,  and  ac 
cordingly  we  started  across  the  hall,  after  he  had 


THE  BURGLAR  POWDER  219 

gathered  up  his  correspondence.  The  information 
had  made  more  work  that  night  impossible  for  him. 

As  we  crossed  from  the  writing-room,  we  saw 
Alfonso  de  Moche  coming  in  from  the  street.  He 
saw  us  and  came  over  to  speak.  Was  it  a  coinci 
dence,  or  was  it  merely  a  blind?  Was  he  the  one 
who  had  got  away  and  now  calculated  to  come  back 
and  throw  us  off  guard? 

Whitney  asked  him  where  he  had  been,  but  he 
replied  quickly  that  his  mother  had  not  been  feeling 
very  well  after  dinner  and  had  gone  to  bed,  while 
he  strolled  out  and  had  dropped  into  a  picture  show. 
That,  I  felt,  was  at  least  clever.  The  intruder  had 
been  a  man. 

De  Moche  excused  himself,  and  we  continued 
our  walk  to  the  cafe,  where  Whitney  restored  his 
shattered  peace  of  mind  somewhat. 

"  What's  the  result  of  your  detective  work  on 
Norton?"  ventured  Kennedy  at  last,  seeing  that 
Whitney  was  in  a  more  expansive  frame  of  mind, 
and  taking  a  chance. 

"  Oh,"  returned  Whitney,  "  he's  scared,  all  right. 
Why,  he  has  been  hanging  around  this  hotel — • 
watching  me.  He  thinks  I  don't  know  it,  I  suppose, 
but  I  do." 

Kennedy  and  I  exchanged  glances. 

"  But  he's  slippery,"  went  on  Whitney.  "  He 
knows  that  he  is  being  shadowed  and  the  men  tell 
me  that  they  lose  him,  now  and  then.  To  tell  the 
truth  I  don't  trust  most  of  these  private  detectives. 


220         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

I  think  their  little  tissue  paper  reports  are  half- 
faked,  anyhow." 

He  seemed  to  want  to  say  no  more  on  the  subject, 
from  which  I  took  it  that  he  had  discovered  nothing 
of  importance. 

"  One  thing,  though,"  he  recollected,  after  a  mo 
ment.  "  He  has  been  going  to  see  Inez  Mendoza, 
they  tell  me." 

"  Yes?  "  queried  Kennedy. 

"  Confound  him.  He  pretty  nearly  got  Lockwood 
in  bad  with  her,  too,"  said  Whitney,  then  leaning 
over  confidentially  added,  "  Say,  Kennedy,  honestly, 
now,  you  don't  believe  that  shoe-print  stuff,  do 
you?" 

"  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  it,"  returned  Kennedy 
with  diplomatic  firmness.  "  Why?  " 

"  Well,"  continued  Whitney,  still  confidential, 
"  we  haven't  got  the  dagger — that's  all.  There — I 
never  actually  asserted  that  before,  though  I've  given 
every  one  to  understand  that  our  plans  are  based 
on  something  more  than  hot-air.  We  haven't  got  it, 
and  we  never  had  it." 

"  Then  who  has  it?  "  asked  Kennedy  colourlessly. 

Whitney  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  know,"  he 
said  merely. 

"  And  these  attacks  on  you — this  cigarette  busi 
ness — how  do  you  explain  that,"  asked  Craig,  "  if 
you  haven't  the  dagger?" 

"  Jealousy,  pure  jealousy,"  replied  Whitney 
quickly.  "  They  are  so  afraid  that  we  will  find  the 
treasure.  That's  my  dope." 


THE  BURGLAR  POWDER  221 

"Who  is  afraid?" 

"  That's  a  serious  matter,"  he  evaded.  "  I 
wouldn't  say  anything  that  I  couldn't  back  up  in  a 
case  of  that  kind.  I'd  get  into  trouble." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  prolonging  the 
conversation  and  Kennedy  made  a  move  as  though 
to  go. 

"  Just  give  us  a  square  deal,"  said  Whitney  as  we 
left.  "  That's  all  we  want — a  square  deal." 

Kennedy  and  I  walked  out  of  the  Prince  Edward 
Albert  and  turned  down  the  block. 

"Well,  have  you  found  out  anything  more?" 
asked  a  voice  in  the  shadow  beside  us. 

We  turned.     It  was  Norton. 

"  I  saw  you  talking  to  Whitney  in  the  writing- 
room,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  then  in  the  cafe,  and 
I  saw  Alfonso  come  in.  He  still  has  those  shadows 
on  me.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  there  was  one  of 
them  around  in  a  doorway,  now." 

"  No,"  returned  Kennedy,  "  he  didn't  say  anything 
that  was  important.  They  still  say  they  haven't  the 
dagger." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Norton. 

"  You'll  wait  around  a  little  longer?  "  asked  Ken 
nedy  as  we  came  to  a  corner  and  stopped. 

"  I  think  so,"  returned  Norton.  "  I'll  keep  you 
posted." 

Kennedy  and  I  walked  on  a  bit. 

"  I'm  going  around  to  see  how  Burke,  O'Connor's 
man,  is  getting  on  watching  the  Mendoza  apart 
ment,  Walter,"  he  said  at  length.  "  Then  I  have 


222          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

two  or  three  other  little  outside  matters  to  attend  to. 
You  look  tired.  Why  don't  you  go  home  and  take  a 
rest?  I  shan't  be  working  in  the  laboratory  to-night, 
either." 

"  I  think  I  will,"  I  agreed,  for  the  strain  of  the 
case  was  beginning  to  tell  on  me. 


XX 

THE  PULMOTOR 

I  WENT  directly  to  our  apartment  after  Craig  left 
me  and  for  a  little  while  sat  up,  speculating  on 
the  probabilities  of  the  case. 

Senora  de  Moche  had  told  us  of  her  ancestor  who 
had  been  intrusted  with  the  engraved  dagger,  of 
how  it  had  been  handed  down,  of  the  death  of  her 
brother;  she  had  told  us  of  the  murder  of  the  an 
cestor  of  Inez  Mendoza,  of  the  curse  of  Mansiche. 
Was  this,  after  all,  but  a  reincarnation  of  the  bloody 
history  of  the  Gold  of  the  Gods? 

There  were  the  shoe-prints  in  the  mummy  case. 
They  were  Lockwood's.  How  about  them?  Was 
he  telling  the  truth?  Now  had  come  the  poisoned 
cigarettes.  All  had  followed  the  threats: 

BEWARE  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE  ON  THE 
GOLD  OF  THE  GODS. 

Several  times  I  had  been  forced  already  to  revise 
my  theories  of  the  case.  At  first  I  had  felt  that  it 
pointed  straight  toward  Lockwood.  But  did  it 
seem  to  do  so  now? 

Suppose  Lockwood  had  stolen  the  dagger  from 
the  Museum,  although  he  denied  even  that.  Did 
that  mean,  necessarily  that  he  committed  the  murder 

223 


224         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

with  it,  that  he  now  had  it?  Might  he  not  have  lost 
it?  Might  not  some  one  else — the  Senora,  or  Al 
fonso,  or  both — have  obtained  it?  Might  not 
Mendoza  have  been  murdered  with  it  by  some  other 
hand  to  obtain  or  to  hide  the  secret  on  its  bloody 
blade? 

I  went  to  bed,  still  thinking,  no  nearer  a  conclu 
sion  than  before,  prepared  to  dream  over  it. 

That  is  the  last  I  remember. 

When  I  regained  consciousness,  I  was  lying  on  the 
bed  still,  but  Craig  was  bending  over  me.  He  had 
just  taken  a  rubber  cap  off  my  face,  to  which  was 
attached  a  rubber  tube  that  ran  to  a  box  perhaps  as 
large  as  a  suitcase,  containing  a  pump  of  some  kind. 

I  was  too  weak  to  notice  these  things  right  away, 
too  weak  to  care  much  about  them,  or  about  anything 
else. 

"Are  you  all  right  now,  old  man?"  he  asked, 
bending  over  me. 

"  Y-Yes,"  I  gasped,  clutching  at  the  choking  sen 
sation  in  my  throat.  "What  has  happened?" 

Perhaps  I  had  best  tell  it  as  though  I  were  not 
the  chief  actor;  for  it  came  to  me  in  such  disjointed 
fragmentary  form,  that  it  was  some  time  before 
I  could  piece  it  together. 

Craig  had  seen  Burke,  and  had  found  that  every 
thing  was  all  right.  Then  he  had  made  the  few  little 
investigations  that  he  intended.  But  he  had  not  been 
to  the  laboratory.  There  had  been  no  light  there 
that  night. 

At  last  when  he  arrived  home,  he  had  found  a 


THE  PULMOTOR  225 

peculiar  odour  in  the  hall,  but  had  thought  nothing 
of  it,  until  he  opened  our  door.  Then  there  rushed 
out  such  a  burst  of  it  that  he  had  to  retreat,  almost 
fainting,  choking  and  gasping  for  breath. 

His  first  thought  was  for  me;  and  protecting  him 
self  as  best  he  could  he  struggled  through  to  my 
room,  to  find  me  lying  on  the  bed,  motionless,  almost 
cold. 

He  was  by  this  time  too  weak  to  carry  me.  But 
he  managed  to  reach  the  window  and  throw  it  wide 
open.  As  the  draught  cleared  the  air,  he  thought  of 
the  telephone  and  with  barely  strength  enough  left 
called  up  one  of  the  gas  companies  and  had  a  pul- 
motor  sent  over. 

Now  that  the  danger  was  past  for  me,  and  he  felt 
all  right,  his  active  mind  began  at  once  on  the  re 
construction  of  what  had  happened. 

What  was  it — man  or  devil?  Could  a  human  fly 
have  scaled  the  walls,  or  an  aeroplane  have  dropped 
an  intruder  at  the  window  ledge?  The  lock  on  the 
door  did  not  seem  to  have  been  tampered  with. 
Nor  was  there  any  way  by  which  entrance  could  have 
been  gained  from  a  fire  escape.  It  was  not  illuminat 
ing  gas.  Every  one  agreed  on  that.  No,  it  was  not 
an  accident.  It  was  an  attempt  at  murder.  Some 
one  was  getting  close  to  us.  Every  other  weapon 
failing,  this  was  desperation. 

I  had  been  made  comfortable,  and  he  was  engaged 
in  one  of  his  characteristic  searches,  with  more  than 
ordinary  eagerness,  because  this  was  his  own  apart 
ment,  and  it  was  I  who  had  been  the  victim. 

I  followed  him  languidly  as  he  went  over  every- 


226         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

thing,  the  furniture,  the  walls,  the  windows,  the  car 
pets — here  looking  for  finger-prints,  there  for  some 
trace  of  the  poisonous  gas  that  had  filled  the  room. 
But  he  did  not  have  the  air  of  one  who  was  finding 
anything.  I  was  too  tired  to  reason.  This  was  but 
another  of  the  baffling  mysteries  that  confronted  us. 

A  low  exclamation  caused  me  to  open  my  eyes  and 
try  to  discover  what  was  the  cause.  He  was  bending 
over  the  lock  of  the  door  looking  at  it  intently. 

"  Broken?  "  I  managed  to  say. 

"  No — corroded,"  he  replied.  "  You  keep  still. 
Save  your  energy.  I've  got  strength  enough  for  two, 
for  a  while." 

He  came  over  to  the  bed  and  bent  over  me.  "  I 
won't  hurt  you,"  he  encouraged,  "  but  just  let  me 
get  a  drop  of  your  blood." 

He  took  a  needle  and  ran  it  gently  into  my  thumb 
beside  the  nail.  A  drop  or  two  of  blood  oozed  out 
and  he  soaked  it  up  with  a  piece  of  sterile  gauze. 

"  Try  to  sleep,"  he  said  finally. 

"And  you?  "I  asked. 

"  It's  no  use.  I'm  going  over  to  the  laboratory. 
I  can't  sleep.  There's  a  cop  down  in  front  of  the 
house.  You're  safe  enough.  By  George,  if  this 
case  goes  much  further  we'll  have  half  the  force 
standing  guard.  Here — drink  that." 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  to  sleep,  if  he 
wouldn't,  but  I  slipped  up  when  I  obeyed  him  that 
time.  I  thought  it  was  a  stimulant  but  it  turned  out 
to  be  a  sedative. 

I  did  not  wake  up  until  well  along  in  the  morning, 


THE  PULMOTOR  227 

but  when  I  did  I  was  surprised  to  find  myself  so 
well.  Before  any  one  could  stop  me,  I  was  dressed 
and  had  reached  the  door. 

A  friend  of  ours  who  had  volunteered  to  stay 
with  me  was  dozing  on  a  couch  as  I  came  out. 

"  Too  late,  Johnson,"  I  called,  trying  hard  to  be 
gay,  though  I  felt  anything  but  like  it.  "  Thank  you, 
old  man,  for  staying  with  me.  But  I'm  afraid  to 
stop.  You're  stronger  than  I  am  this  morning — 
and  besides  you  can  run  faster.  I'm  afraid  you'll 
drag  me  back." 

He  did  try  to  do  it,  but  with  a  great  effort  of 
will-power  I  persuaded  him  to  let  me  go.  Out  in  the 
open  air,  too,  it  seemed  to  do  me  good.  The  police 
man  who  had  been  stationed  before  the  house  gazed 
at  me  as  though  he  saw  a  ghost,  then  grinned  en 
couragingly. 

Still,  I  was  glad  that  the  laboratory  was  only  a 
few  blocks  away,  for  I  was  all  in  by  the  time  I  got 
there,  and  hadn't  even  energy  enough  to  reply  to 
Kennedy's  scolding. 

He  was  working  over  a  microscope,  while  by  his 
side  stood  in  racks,  innumerable  test-tubes  of  various 
liquids.  On  the  table  before  him  lay  the  lock  of 
our  door  which  he  had  cut  out  after  he  gave  me  the 
sleeping  draught. 

"What  was  it?"  I  asked.  "I  feel  as  if  I  had 
been  on  a  bust,  without  the  recollection  of  a  thing." 

He  shook  his  head  as  if  to  discourage  conversa 
tion,  without  taking  his  eyes  off  the  microscope 
through  which  he  was  squinting.  His  lips  were  mov- 


228         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

ing  as  if  he  were  counting.  I  waited  in  impatient 
silence  until  he  seemed  to  have  finished. 

Then,  still  without  a  word,  he  took  up  a  test-tube 
and  dropped  into  it  a  little  liquid  from  a  bottle  on 
a  shelf  above  the  table.  His  face  lighted  up,  and 
he  regarded  the  reaction  attentively  for  some  time. 
Then  he  turned  to  me,  still  holding  the  tube. 

"  You  have  been  on  a  bust,"  he  said  with  a  smile 
as  if  the  remark  of  a  few  minutes  before  were  still 
fresh.  "  Only  it  was  a  laughing  gas  jag — nitrous 
oxide." 

"  Nitrous  oxide?  "  I  repeated.  "  How — what  do 
you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  simply  that  a  test  of  your  blood  shows 
that  you  were  poisoned  by  nitrous  oxide  gas.  You 
remember  the  sample  of  blood  which  I  squeezed 
from  your  thumb?  I  took  it  because  I  knew  that  a 
gas — and  it  has  proved  to  be  nitrous  oxide — is  ab 
sorbed  through  the  lungs  into  the  circulation  and  its 
presence  can  be  told  for  a  considerable  period  after 
administration." 

He  paused  a  moment,  then  went  on:  "To  be 
specific  in  this  case  I  found  by  microscopic  examina 
tion  that  the  number  of  corpuscles  in  your  blood  was 
vastly  above  the  normal,  something  like  between 
seven  and  eight  million  to  a  drop  that  should  have 
had  somewhat  more  than  only  half  that  number. 
You  were  poisoned  by  gas  that " 

"Yes,"  I  interrupted,  "but  how,  with  all  the 
doors  locked?  " 

"  I  was  coming  to  that,"  he  said  quietly,  picking 
up  the  lock  and  looking  at  it  thoughtfully. 


THE  PULMOTOR  229 

He  had  already  placed  it  in  a  porcelain  basin,  and 
in  this  basin  he  had  poured  some  liquids.  Then  he 
passed  the  liquids  through  a  fine  screen  and  at  last 
took  up  a  tube  containing  some  of  the  resulting 
liquid. 

"  I  have  already  satisfied  myself,"  he  explained, 
"  but  for  your  benefit,  seeing  that  you're  the  chief 
sufferer,  I'll  run  over  a  part  of  the  test.  You  saw 
the  reaction  which  showed  the  gas  a  moment  ago. 
I  have  proved  chemically  as  well  as  microscopically 
that  it  is  present  in  your  blood.  Now  if  I  take  this 
test-tube  of  liquid  derived  from  my  treatment  of  the 
lock  and  then  test  it  as  you  saw  me  do  with  the  other, 
isn't  that  enough  for  you?  See — it  gives  the  same 
reaction." 

It  did,  indeed,  but  my  mind  did  not  react  with  it. 

"  Nitrous  oxide,"  he  continued,  "  in  contact  with 
iron,  leaves  distinct  traces  of  corrosion,  discernible 
by  chemical  and  microscopic  tests  quite  as  well  as  the 
marks  it  leaves  in  the  human  blood.  Manifestly,  if 
no  one  could  have  come  in  by  the  windows  or  doors, 
the  gas  must  have  been  administered  in  some  way 
without  any  one  coming  into  the  room.  I  found  no 
traces  of  an  intruder." 

It  was  a  tough  one.  Never  much  good  at  answer 
ing  his  conundrums  when  I  was  well,  I  could  not 
even  make  a  guess  now. 

'  The  key-hole,  of  course !  "  he  explained.  "  I 
cut  away  the  entire  lock,  and  have  submitted  it  to 
these  tests  which  you  see." 

"  I  don't  see  it  all  yet,"  I  said. 

"  Some  one  came  to  our  door  in  the  night,  after 


230         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

gaining  entrance  to  the  hall — not  a  difficult  thing 
to  do,  we  know.  That  person  found  our  door  locked, 
knew  it  would  be  locked,  knew  that  I  always  locked 
it.  Knowing  that  such  was  the  case,  this  person 
came  prepared,  bringing  perhaps,  a  tank  of  com 
pressed  nitrous  oxide,  certainly  the  materials  for 
making  the  gas  expeditiously." 

I  began  to  understand  how  it  had  been  done. 

"  Through  the  keyhole,"  he  resumed,  "  a  stream 
of  the  gas  was  injected.  It  soon  rendered  you  un 
conscious,  and  that  would  have  been  all,  if  the  person 
had  been  satisfied.  A  little  bit  would  have  been 
harmless  enough.  But  the  person  was  not  satisfied. 
The  intention  was  not  to  overcome,  but  to  kill.  The 
stream  of  gas  was  kept  up  until  the  room  was  full 
of  it. 

"  Only  my  return  saved  you,  for  the  gas  was 
escaping  very  slowly.  Even  then,  you  had  been 
under  it  so  long  that  we  had  to  resort  to  the  wonder 
ful  little  pulmotor  after  trying  both  the  Sylvester 
and  Schaefer  methods  and  all  other  manual  means 
to  induce  respiration.  At  any  rate  we  managed  to 
undo  the  work  of  this  fiend." 

I  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  I,  who  didn't  think 
I  had  an  enemy  in  the  world. 

"  But  who  could  it  have  been?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  are  pretty  close  to  that  criminal,"  was  the 
only  reply  he  would  give,  "  providing  we  do  not 
spread  the  net  in  sight  of  the  quarry." 

"Why  should  he  have  wanted  to  get  me?"  I 
repeated. 


THE  PULMOTOR  231 

"  Don't  flatter  yourself,"  replied  Craig.  "  He 
wanted  me,  too.  There  wasn't  any  light  in  the 
laboratory  last  night.  There  was  a  light  in  our 
apartment.  What  more  natural  than  to  think  that 
we  were  both  there?  You  were  caught  in  the  trap 
intended  for  both  of  us." 

I  looked  at  him,  startled.  Surely  this  was  a  most 
desperate  criminal.  To  cover  up  one  murder — per 
haps  two — he  did  not  hesitate  to  attempt  a  third,  a 
double  murder.  The  attack  had  been  really  aimed 
at  Kennedy.  It  had  struck  me  alone.  But  it  had 
miscarried  and  Craig  had  saved  my  life. 

As  I  reflected  bitterly,  I  had  but  one  satisfaction. 
Wretched  as  I  felt,  I  knew  that  it  had  spared  Craig 
from  slowing  up  on  the  case  at  just  the  time  when 
he  was  needed. 

The  news  of  the  attempt  spread  quickly,  for  it  was 
a  police  case  and  got  into  the  papers. 

It  was  not  half  an  hour  after  I  reached  the  labora 
tory  that  the  door  was  pushed  open  by  Inez  Men- 
doza,  followed  by  a  boy  spilling  with  fruit  and 
flowers  like  a  cornucopia. 

"  I  drove  to  the  apartment,"  she  cried,  greatly 
excited  and  sympathetic,  "  but  they  told  me  you  had 
gone  out.  Oh,  I  was  glad  to  hear  it.  Then  I  knew 
it  wasn't  so  serious.  For,  somehow,  I  feel  guilty 
about  it.  It  never  would  have  happened  if  you 
hadn't  met  me." 

"  I'm  sure  it's  worth  more  than  it  cost,"  I  replied 
gallantly. 

She  turned  toward  Kennedy.     "  I'm  positively 


232         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

frightened,"  she  exclaimed.  "  First  they  direct  their 
attacks  against  my  father — then  against  me — now 
against  you.  What  will  it  be  next?  Oh — it  is  that 
curse — it  is  that  curse !  " 

"  Never  fear,"  encouraged  Kennedy,  "  we'll  get 
you  out — we'll  get  all  of  us  out,  now,  I  should  say. 
It's  just  because  they  are  so  desperate  that  we  have 
these  things.  As  long  as  there  is  nothing  to  fear  a 
criminal  will  lie  low.  When  he  gets  scared  he  does 
things.  And  it's  when  he  does  things  that  he  begins 
to  betray  himself." 

She  shuddered.  "  I  feel  as  though  I  was  sur 
rounded  by  enemies,"  she  murmured.  "  It  is  as  if  an 
unseen  evil  power  was  watching  over  me  all  the 
time — and  mocking  me — striking  down  those  I  love 
and  trust.  Where  will  it  end?" 

Kennedy  tried  his  best  to  soothe  her,  but  it  was 
evident  that  the  attack  on  us  could  not  have  had 
more  effect,  if  it  had  been  levelled  direct  at  her. 

"  Please,  Senorita,"  he  pleaded,  "  stand  firm.  We 
are  going  to  win.  Don't  give  in.  The  Mendozas  are 
not  the  kind  to  stop  defeated." 

She  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  It  was  my  father's  way,"  she  choked  back  her 
emotion.  "  How  could  you,  a  stranger,  know?  " 

"  I  didn't  know,"  returned  Kennedy.  "  I  gathered 
it  from  his  face.  It  is  also  his  daughter's  way." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  straightening  up  and  the  fire 
flashing  from  her  eyes,  "  we  are  a  proud,  old,  un 
bending  race.  Good-bye.  I  must  not  interrupt  your 
work  any  longer.  We  are  also  a  race  that  never 
forgets  a  friend." 


THE  PULMOTOR  233 

A  moment  later  she  was  gone. 

"  A  wonderful  woman,"  repeated  Kennedy 
absently. 

Then  he  turned  again  to  his  table  of  chemicals. 

The  telephone  had  begun  to  tinkle  almost  con 
tinuously  by  this  time,  as  one  after  another  of  our 
friends  called  us  up  to  know  how  we  were  getting 
on  and  be  assured  of  our  safety.  In  fact  I  didn't 
know  that  it  was  possible  to  resuscitate  so  many  of 
them  with  a  pulmotor. 

"  By  George,  I'm  glad  it  wasn't  any  more  seri 
ous,"  came  Norton's  voice  from  the  doorway  a 
moment  later.  "  I  didn't  see  a  paper  this  morning. 
The  curator  of  the  Museum  just  told  me.  How  did 
it  happen?  " 

Kennedy  tried  to  pass  it  off  lightly,  and  I  did  the 
same,  for  as  I  was  up  longer  I  really  did  feel  better. 

Norton  shook  his  head  gravely,  however. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  there  were  four  of  us  got  warn 
ings.  They  are  a  desperate,  revengeful  people." 

I  looked  at  him  quickly.  Did  he  mean  the  de 
Moches  ? 


XXI 

THE  TELESCRIBE 

I  DECIDED  that  discretion  was  the  better  part 
of  valour  and  that  I  had  better  go  slow  that  day 
and  regain  my  strength,  a  fortunate  decision,  as  it 
turned  out. 

Kennedy,  also,  spent  most  of  the  time  in  the 
laboratory,  so  that,  after  all,  I  did  not  feel  that  I 
was  missing  very  much. 

It  was  along  in  the  afternoon  that  the  telephone 
began  acting  strangely,  as  it  will  do  sometimes  when 
a  long  distance  connection  is  being  made.  Twice 
Kennedy  answered,  without  getting  any  response. 

"  Confound  that  central,"  he  muttered.  "  What 
do  you  suppose  is  the  matter?" 

Again  the  bell  rang. 

"  Hello,"  shouted  Kennedy,  exasperated.  "  Who's 
this?" 

There  was  a  pause.    "  Just  a  minute,"  he  replied. 

Quickly  he  jammed  the  receiver  down  on  a  little 
metal  base  which  he  had  placed  near  the  instrument. 
Three  prongs  reaching  upward  from  the  base  en 
gaged  the  receiver  tightly,  fitting  closely  about  it. 

Then  he  took  up  a  watch-case  receiver  to  listen 
through  in  place  of  the  regular  receiver. 

"  Who  is  it?  "  he  answered. 

Apparently  the  voice  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire 

234 


THE  TELESCRIBE  235 

replied  rather  peevishly,  for  Kennedy  endeavoured 
to  smooth  over  the  delay.  I  wondered  what  was 
going  on,  why  he  was  so  careful.  His  face  showed 
that,  whatever  it  was,  it  was  most  important. 

As  he  restored  the  telephone  to  its  normal  condi 
tion,  he  looked  at  me  puzzled. 

"  I  wonder  whether  that  was  a  frame-up !  "  he 
exclaimed,  pulling  a  little  cylinder  off  the  instru 
ment  into  which  he  had  inserted  the  telephone  re 
ceiver.  "  I  thought  it  might  be  and  I  have  preserved 
the  voice.  This  is  what  is  known  as  the  telescribe — 
a  recent  invention  of  Edison  which  records  on  a 
specially  prepared  phonograph  cylinder  all  that  is 
said — both  ways — over  a  telephone  wire." 

"  What  was  it  about?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

He  shoved  the  cylinder  on  a  phonograph  and 
started  the  instrument. 

"Professor  Kennedy?"  called  an  unfamiliar 
voice. 

"  Yes,"  answered  a  voice  that  I  recognized  as 
Craig's. 

"  This  is  the  detective  agency  employed  by  Mr. 
Whitney.  He  has  instructed  us  to  inform  you  that 
he  has  obtained  the  Peruvian  dagger  for  which  you 
have  been  searching.  That's  all.  Good-bye." 

I  looked  at  Kennedy  in  blank  surprise. 

'  They  rang  off  before  I  could  ask  them  a  ques 
tion,"  said  Craig.  "  Central  tells  me  it  was  a  pay 
station  call.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  way  of 
tracing  it.  But,  at  least  I  have  a  record  of  the 


voice." 


236         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  queried.  "It 
may  be  a  fake." 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  going  to  investigate  it.  Do  you 
feel  strong  enough  to  go  down  to  Whitney's  with 
me?" 

The  startling  news  had  been  like  a  tonic.  "  Of 
course,"  I  replied,  seizing  my  hat. 

Kennedy  paused  only  long  enough  to  call  Norton. 
The  archaeologist  was  out,  and  we  hurried  on  down 
town  to  Whitney's. 

Whitney  was  not  there  and  his  clerk  was  just 
about  to  close  the  office.  All  the  books  were  put 
away  in  the  safe  and  the  desks  were  closed.  Now 
and  then  there  echoed  up  the  hall  the  clang  of  an 
elevator  door. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Whitney?"  demanded  Craig  of 
the  clerk. 

"  I  can't  say.  He  went  out  a  couple  of  hours 
ago." 

"  Did  he  have  a  visit  from  one  of  his  detectives?  " 
shot  out  Craig  suddenly. 

The  clerk  looked  up  suspiciously  at  us. 

"  No,"  he  replied  defiantly. 

"  Walter — stand  by  that  door,"  shouted  Craig. 
"  Let  no  one  in  until  they  break  it  down." 

His  blue-steel  automatic  gleamed  a  cold  menace 
at  the  clerk.  A  downtown  office  after  office  hours 
is  not  exactly  the  place  to  which  one  can  get  assist 
ance  quickly.  The  clerk  started  back. 

"  Did  he  have  a  visit  from  one  of  his  detectives?  " 

"  Yes." 


THE  TELESCRIBE  237 

"What  was  it  about?" 

The  clerk  winced.  "  I  don't  know,"  he  replied, 
41  honest— I  don't." 

Craig  waved  the  gun  for  emphasis.  "  Open  the 
safe,"  he  said. 

Reluctantly  the  clerk  obeyed.  Under  the  point  of 
the  gun  he  searched  every  compartment  and  drawer 
of  the  big  chrome  steel  strong-box  which  Whitney 
had  pointed  out  as  the  safest  place  for  the  dagger 
on  our  first  visit  to  'him.  But  there  was  absolutely 
no  trace  of  it.  Had  we  been  hoaxed  and  was  all 
this  risk  in  vain? 

"  Where  did  Mr.  Whitney  go?  "  demanded  Craig, 
as  he  directed  the  clerk  to  shut  the  door  and  lock  the 
safe  again,  baffled. 

"  If  I  should  try  to  tell  you,"  returned  the  man, 
very  much  frightened,  "  I  would  be  lying.  You 
would  soon  find  out.  Mr.  Whitney  doesn't  make  a 
confidant  of  me,  you  know." 

It  was  useless.  If  he  had  the  dagger,  at  least  we 
knew  that  it  was  not  at  the  office.  We  had  learned 
only  one  thing.  He  had  had  a  visit  from  one  of  his 
detectives. 

As  fast  as  the  uptown  trend  of  automobiles  and 
surface  cars  during  the  rush  hour  would  permit, 
Kennedy  and  I  hurried  in  a  taxicab  to  the  Prince 
Edward  Albert  in  the  hope  of  surprising  him  there. 

"  It's  no  use  to  inquire  for  him,"  decided  Craig  as 
we  entered  the  hotel.  "  I  still  have  the  key  to  that 
room,  827,  next  to  his.  We'll  ride  right  up  in  the 
elevator  boldly  and  get  in." 


238         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

No  one  said  anything  to  us,  as  we  let  ourselves 
into  the  room  next  to  Whitney's.  A  new  lock  had 
been  placed  on  the  door  between  the  suites,  but,  aside 
from  the  additional  time  it  took  to  force  it,  it  pre 
sented  no  great  difficulty. 

"  He  wouldn't  leave  the  dagger  here,  of  course," 
remarked  Kennedy,  as  at  last  we  stepped  into  Whit 
ney's  suite.  "  But  we  may  as  well  satisfy  ourselves. 
Hello— what's  this?" 

The  room  was  all  upset,  as  though  some  one  had 
already  gone  through  it.  For  a  moment  I  thought 
we  had  been  forestalled. 

"  Packed  a  grip  hastily,"  Craig  remarked,  point 
ing  to  the  marks  on  the  bedspread  where  it  had 
rested  while  he  must  literally  have  thrown  things 
into  it. 

We  made  a  hasty  search  ourselves,  but  we  knew 
it  was  hopeless.  Two  things  we  had  learned. 
Whitney  had  had  a  visit  from  his  detectives,  and  he 
had  gone  away  hurriedly.  An  anonymous  telephone 
message  had  been  sent  to  Kennedy.  Had  it  been  for 
the  purpose  of  throwing  us  off  the  track? 

The  room  telephone  rang.  Quickly  Craig  jumped 
to  it  and  took  down  the  receiver. 

"  Hello,"  he  called.    "  Yes,  this  is  Mr.  Whitney." 

A  silence  ensued  during  which,  of  course,  I  could 
not  gather  any  idea  of  what  was  going  on  over  the 
wire. 

"The  deuce!"  exclaimed  Kennedy,  working  the 
hook  up  and  down  but  receiving  no  response.  :<  The 
fellow  caught  on.  Something  must  have  happened 
to  Norton,  too." 


THE  TELESCRIBE  239 

"How's  that?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,"  he  replied,  "  some  one  just  called  up 
Whitney  and  said  that  Norton  had  got  away  from 
him." 

"  Perhaps  they're  trying  to  keep  him  out  of  the 
way  just  as  they  are  with  us,"  I  suggested.  "  I 
think  the  thing  is  a  plant." 

Down  the  hall,  Kennedy  stopped  and  tapped 
lightly  at  the  door  of  810,  the  de  Moche  suite. 
I  think  he  was  surprised  when  the  Senora's  maid 
opened  it. 

"  Tell  Senora  de  Moche  it  is  Professor  Kennedy," 
he  said  quickly,  "  and  that  I  must  see  her." 

The  maid  admitted  us  into  the  sitting-room  where 
we  had  had  our  first  interview  with  her  and  a  mo 
ment  later  she  appeared.  She  was  evidently  not 
dressed  for  dinner,  although  it  was  almost  time,  and 
I  saw  Kennedy's  eye  travel  from  her  to  a  chair  in 
the  corner  over  which  was  draped  a  linen  automobile 
coat  and  a  heavy  veil.  Had  she  been  preparing  to 
go  somewhere,  too?  The  door  to  Alfonso's  room 
was  open  and  he  clearly  was  not  there.  What  did 
it  all  mean? 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  a  report  that  the 
dagger  has  been  found?"  demanded  Kennedy 
abruptly. 

"  Why — no,"  she  replied,  greatly  surprised,  ap 
parently. 

'You  were  going  out?"  asked  Kennedy  with  a 
significant  glance  at  the  coat  and  veil. 

"  Only  for  a  little  ride  with  Alfonso,  who  has 
gone  to  hire  a  car,"  she  answered  quickly. 


24o         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

I  felt  sure  that  she  had  heard  something  about 
the  dagger. 

We  had  no  further  excuse  for  staying  and  on  the 
way  out,  now  that  he  had  satisfied  himself  that 
Whitney  was  not  there,  Craig  inquired  at  the  office 
for  him.  They  could  tell  us  nothing  of  his  where 
abouts,  except  that  he  had  left  in  his  car  late  in  the 
afternoon  in  a  great  hurry. 

Kennedy  stepped  into  a  telephone  booth  and  called 
up  Lockwood,  but  no  one  answered.  Inquiry  in  the 
garages  in  the  neighbourhood  finally  located  that  at 
which  Lockwood  kept  his  car.  There,  all  that  they 
could  tell  us  was  that  the  car  had  been  filled  with 
gas  and  oil  as  if  for  a  trip.  Lockwood  was  gone, 
too. 

Kennedy  hastily  ordered  a  touring  car  himself  and 
placed  it  at  a  corner  of  the  Prince  Edward  Albert 
where  he  could  watch  two  of  the  entrances,  while 
I  waited  on  the  next  corner  where  I  could  see  the 
entrance  on  the  other  street. 

For  some  time  we  waited  and  still  she  did  not 
come  out.  Had  she  telephoned  to  Alfonso  and  had 
he  gone  alone?  Perhaps  she  had  already  been  out 
and  had  taken  this  method  of  detaining  us,  knowing 
that  we  would  wait  to  watch  her. 

It  must  have  been  a  mixture  of  both  motives,  for 
at  length  I  was  rewarded  by  seeing  her  come 
cautiously  out  of  the  rear  entrance  of  the  hotel  alone 
and  start  to  walk  hurriedly  up  the  street.  I  signalled 
to  Craig  who  shot  down  and  picked  me  up. 


THE  TELESCRIBE  241 

By  this  time  the  Senora  had  reached  a  public  cab 
stand  and  had  engaged  a  hack. 

Sinking  back  in  the  shadows  of  the  top,  which 
was  up,  Craig  directed  our  driver  to  follow  the 
hack  cautiously,  keeping  a  couple  of  blocks  behind. 
There  was  some  satisfaction,  though  slight,  in  it, 
at  least.  We  felt  the  possibility  of  the  trail  leading 
somewhere,  now. 

On  uptown  the  hack  went,  while  we  kept  discreetly 
in  the  rear.  We  had  reached  a  part  of  the  city  where 
it  was  sparsely  populated,  when  the  hack  suddenly 
turned  and  doubled  back  on  us. 

There  was  not  time  for  us  to  turn  and  we  trusted 
that  by  shrinking  back  in  the  shadow  we  might  not  be 
observed. 

As  the  hack  passed  us,  however,  the  Senora  leaned 
out  until  it  was  perfectly  evident  that  she  must 
recognize  us.  She  said  nothing  but  I  fancied  I 
saw  a  smile  of  satisfaction  as  she  settled  back  into 
the  cushions.  She  was  deliberately  going  back  along 
the  very  road  by  which  she  had  led  us  out.  It  had 
been  an  elaborate  means  of  wasting  our  time. 

She  did  not  have  the  satisfaction,  however,  of 
shaking  us  off,  for  we  followed  all  the  way  back 
to  the  hotel  and  saw  her  go  in.  Then  Kennedy 
placed  the  car  where  we  had  it  before  and  left  the 
driver  with  instructions  to  follow  her  regardless  of 
time  if  she  should  come  out  again. 

Surely,  I  reasoned,  there  must  be  something  very 
queer  going  on,  if  they  were  all  in  it  to  eliminate  us 
and  Norton.  What  had  happened  to  him? 


242         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Kennedy  hastened  back  to  the  campus,  late  as  it 
was,  there  to  start  anew.  Norton  was  not  in  his 
quarters  and,  on  the  chance  that  he  might  have 
sought  to  elude  Whitney's  detectives  by  doing  the 
unexpected  and  going  to  the  Museum,  Kennedy 
walked  over  that  way. 

There  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  anybody  had 
been  at  the  Museum,  but,  as  we  passed  our  labora 
tory,  we  could  hear  the  telephone  ringing  inside,  as 
though  some  one  had  been  trying  to  get  us  for  a  long 
time. 

Kennedy  opened  the  door  and  switched  on  the 
lights.  Waiting  only  long  enough  to  jam  the  re 
ceiver  down  into  place  on  the  telescribe,  he  an 
swered  the  call. 

"  The  deuce  you  will  I  "  I  heard  him  exclaim,  then 
apparently  whoever  was  talking  rang  off  and  he 
could  not  get  them  back. 

"  Another  of  those  confounded  telephone  mes 
sages,"  he  said,  turning  to  me  and  taking  the 
cylinder  off.  "  I  looks  as  though  the  ready-letter 
writer  who  used  to  send  warnings  had  learned  his 
lesson  and  taken  to  the  telephone  as  leaving  fewer 
clues  than  handwriting." 

He  placed  the  record  on  the  phonograph  so  that 
I  could  hear  it.  It  was  brief  and  to  the  point,  as  had 
been  the  first. 

"Hello,  is  that  you,  Kennedy?  We've  got  Nor 
ton.  Next  we'll  get  you.  Good-bye." 

Kennedy  repeated  the  first  message.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  both  had  been  spoken  by  the  same  voice. 


THE  TELESCRIBE  243 

"Whose  is  it?"  I  asked  blankly.  "What  does 
it  mean?" 

Before  Craig  could  answer  there  was  a  knock  at 
our  door  and  he  sprang  to  open  it. 


XXII 
THE  VANISHER 

IT  was  Juanita,  Inez  Mendoza's  maid,  frantic  and 
almost  speechless. 

'  Why,  Juanita, "  encouraged  Kennedy,  "  what's 
the  matter?" 

'  The  Sefiorita!  "  she  gasped,  breaking  down  now 
and  sobbing  over  and  over  again.    "  The  Senorita  I  " 

1  Yes,  yes,"  repeated  Kennedy,  "  but  what  about 
her?  Is  there  anything  wrong?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Kennedy,"  sobbed  the  poor  girl,  "  I 
don't  know.  She  is  gone.  I  have  had  no  word  from 
her  since  this  afternoon." 

"  Gone !  "  we  exclaimed  together.  "  Where  was 
Burke — that  man  that  the  police  sent  up  to  protect 
her?" 

"  He  is  gone,  too — now,"  replied  Juanita  in  her 
best  English,  sadly  broken  by  the  excitement. 

Kennedy  and  I  looked  at  each  other  aghast.  This 
was  the  hardest  blow  of  all.  We  had  thought  that, 
at  least,  Inez  would  be  safe  with  a  man  like  Burke, 
whom  we  could  trust,  detailed  to  watch  her. 

"  Tell  me,"  urged  Kennedy,  "  how  did  it  happen? 
Did  they  carry  her  off — as  they  tried  to  do  the 
other  time?  " 

"  No,  no,"  sobbed  Juanita.     "  I  do  not  know.    I 
244 


THE  VANISHER  245 

do  not  know  even  whether  she  is  gone.  She  went 
out  this  afternoon  for  a  little  walk.  But  she  did  not 
come  back.  After  it  grew  dark,  I  was  frightened. 
I  remembered  that  you  were  here  and  called  up,  but 
you  were  out.  Then  I  saw  that  policeman.  I  told 
him.  He  has  others  working  w;'li  him  now.  But 
I  could  not  find  you — until  now  I  saw  a  light  here. 
Oh,  my  poor,  little  girl,  what  has  become  of  her? 
Where  have  they  taken  her?  Oh,  Madre  de  Dios, 
it  is  terrible  I  " 

Had  that  been  the  purpose  for  which  we  had  been 
sent  on  wild-goose  chases?  Was  Inez  really  kid 
napped  this  time?  I  knew  not  what  to  think.  It 
seemed  hardly  possible  that  all  of  them  could  have 
joined  in  it. 

If  she  were  kidnapped,  it  must  have  been  on  the 
street  in  broad  daylight.  Such  things  had  happened. 
It  would  not  be  the  first  disappearance  of  the  kind. 

Quickly  Kennedy  called  up  Deputy  O'Connor.  It 
was  only  too  true.  Burke  had  reported  that  she  had 
disappeared  and  the  police,  especially  those  at  the 
stations  and  ferries  and  in  the  suburbs  had  been 
notified  to  look  for  her.  All  this  seemed  to  have 
taken  place  in  those  hours  when  the  mysterious  tele 
phone  calls  had  sent  us  on  the  wrong  trail. 

Kennedy  said  nothing,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
was  doing  some  keen  thinking. 

Just  then  the  telephone  rang  again.  It  was  from 
the  man  whom  we  had  left  at  the  Prince  Edward 
Albert.  Senora  de  Moche  had  gone  out  and  driven 
rapidly  to  the  Grand  Central.  He  had  not  been 


246         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

able  to  find  out  what  ticket  she  bought,  but  the 
train  was  just  leaving. 

Kennedy  paced  up  and  down,  muttering  to  himself. 
"  Whitney  first — then  Lockwood — and  Alfonso. 
The  Senora  takes  a  train.  Suppose  the  first  mes 
sage  were  true?  Gas  and  oil  for  a  trip." 

He  seized  the  telephone  book  and  hastily  turned 
the  pages  over.  At  last  his  finger  rested  on  a  name 
in  the  suburban  section.  I  read:  "Whitney,  Stuart. 
Res.  I74-J  Rockledge." 

Quickly  he  gave  central  the  number,  then  shoved 
the  receiver  again  into  the  telescribe. 

"Hello,  is  Mr.  Whitney  there?"  I  heard  later 
as  he  placed  the  record  again  in  the  phonograph  for 
repetition. 

"No— who  is  this?" 

"  His  head  clerk.  Tell  him  I  must  see  him.  Ken 
nedy  has  been  to  the  office  and " 

"  Say — get  off  the  line.    We  had  that  story  once." 

"  That's  it!  "  exclaimed  Craig.  "  Don't  you  see — 
they've  all  gone  up  to  Whitney's  country  place. 
That  clerk  was  faking.  He  has  already  telephoned. 
And  listen.  Do  you  see  anything  peculiar?  " 

He  was  running  all  three  records  which  we  had  on 
the  telescribe.  As  he  did  so,  I  saw  unmistakably  that 
it  was  the  same  voice  on  all  three.  Whitney  must 
have  had  a  servant  do  the  telephoning  for  him. 

"  Don't  fret,  Juanita,"  reassured  Kennedy.  "  We 
shall  find  your  mistress  for  you.  She  will  be  all 
right.  You  had  better  go  back  to  the  apartment 


THE  VANISHER  247 

and  wait.     Walter  look  up  the  next  train  to  Rock- 
ledge  while  I  telephone  O'Connor." 

We  had  an  hour  to  wait  before  the  next  train  left 
and  in  the  meantime  we  drove  Juanita  back  to  the 
Mendoza  apartment. 

It  was  a  short  run  to  Rockledge  by  railroad,  but 
it  seemed  to  me  that  it  took  hours.  Kennedy  sat  in 
silence  most  of  the  time,  his  eyes  closed,  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  place  himself  in  the  position  of  the 
others  and  figure  out  what  they  would  do. 

At  last  we  arrived,  the  only  passengers  to  get  off 
at  the  little  old  station.  Which  way  to  turn  we  had 
not  the  slightest  idea.  We  looked  about.  Even  the 
ticket  office  was  closed.  It  looked  as  though  we 
might  almost  as  well  have  stayed  in  New  York. 

Down  the  railroad  we  could  see  that  a  great  piece 
of  engineering  was  in  progress,  raising  the  level  of 
the  tracks  and  building  a  steel  viaduct,  as  well  as  a 
new  station,  and  at  the  same  time  not  interrupting 
the  through  traffic,  which  was  heavy. 

"  Surely  there  must  be  some  one  down  there," 
observed  Kennedy,  as  we  picked  our  way  across  the 
steel  girders,  piles  of  rails,  and  around  huge  ma 
chines  for  mixing  concrete. 

We  came  at  last  to  a  little  construction  house,  a 
sort  of  general  machine-  and  work-shop,  in  which 
seemed  to  be  everything  from  a  file  to  a  pneumatic 
riveter. 

"Hello!"  shouted  Craig. 

There  came  a  sound  from  a  far  corner  of  a  pile 


248          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

of  ties  and  a  moment  later  a  night-watchman  ad 
vanced  suspiciously  swinging  his  lantern. 

"  Hello  yourself,"  he  growled. 

"  Which  way  to  Stuart  Whitney's  estate?  "  asked 
Craig. 

My  heart  sank  as  he  gave  the  directions.  It 
seemed  miles  away. 

Just  then  the  blinding  lights  of  a  car  flashed  on 
us  as  it  came  down  the  road  parallel  to  the  tracks. 
He  waved  his  light  and  the  car  stopped.  It  was 
empty,  except  for  a  chauffeur  evidently  returning 
from  a  joy  ride. 

"  Take  these  gentlemen  as  far  as  Smith's  corner, 
will  you?  "  asked  the  watchman.  "  Then  show  'em 
the  turn  up  to  Whitney's." 

The  chauffeur  was  an  obliging  chap,  especially  as 
it  cost  him  nothing  to  earn  a  substantial  tip  with  his 
master's  car.  However,  we  were  glad  enough  to 
ride  in  anything  on  wheels,  and  not  over-particular 
at  that  hour  about  the  ownership. 

"  Mr.  Whitney  hasn't  been  out  here  much  lately," 
he  volunteered  as  he  sped  along  the  beautiful  oiled 
road,  and  the  lights  cast  shadows  on  the  trees  that 
made  driving  as  easy  as  in  daylight. 

"  No,  he  has  been  very  busy,"  returned  Craig 
glad  to  turn  to  account  the  opportunity  to  talk  with 
a  chauffeur,  for  it  is  the  chauffeur  in  the  country 
who  is  the  purveyor  of  all  knowledge  and  gossip. 

"  His  car  passed  us  when  I  was  driving  up  from 
the  city.  My  boss  won't  let  me  speed  or  I  wouldn't 


THE  VANISHER  249 

have  taken  his  dust.  Gee,  but  he  does  wear  out  the 
engines  in  his  cars,  Whitney." 

44  Was  he  alone?  "  asked  Craig. 

44  Yes — and  then  I  saw  him  driving  back  again 
when  I  went  down  to  the  station  for  some  new 
shoes  we  had  expressed  up.  Just  a  flying  trip,  I 
guess — or  does  he  expect  you?" 

44  I  don't  think  he  does,"  returned  Craig  truth 
fully. 

44  I  saw  a  couple  of  other  cars  go  up  there.  House 
party?" 

44  Maybe  you'd  call  it  that,"  returned  Craig  with 
a  twinkle  of  the  eye.  "  Did  you  see  any  ladies?  " 

44  No,"  returned  the  chauffeur.  "  Just  a  man 
driving  his  own  car  and  another  with  a  driver." 

44  There  wasn't  a  lady  with  Mr.  Whitney?  "  asked 
Craig,  now  rather  anxious. 

44  Neither  time." 

I  saw  what  he  was  driving  at.  The  Senora  might 
have  got  up  there  in  any  fashion  without  being 
noticed.  But  for  Inez  not  to  be  with  Whitney,  nor 
with  the  two  who  must  evidently  have  been  Lock- 
wood  and  Alfonso,  was  indeed  strange.  Could  it 
be  that  we  were  only  half  right — that  they  had  gath 
ered  here  but  that  Inez  had  really  disappeared? 

The  young  man  set  us  down  at  Smith's  Corner 
and  it  proved  to  be  only  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
up  the  road  and  up-hill  when  Whitney's  house  burst 
in  sight,  silhouetted  against  the  sky. 

There  were  lights  there  and  it  was  evident  that 
several  people  had  gathered  for  some  purpose. 


250         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

We  made  our  way  up  the  path  and  paused  a  mo 
ment  to  look  through  the  window  before  springing 
the  little  surprise.  There  we  could  see  Lockwood, 
Alfonso,  and  Senora  de  Moche,  who  had  arrived, 
after  all  and  probably  been  met  at  the  station  by 
her  son.  They  seemed  like  anything  but  a  happy 
party.  Never  on  the  best  of  terms,  they  could  not  be 
expected  to  be  happy.  But  now,  if  ever,  one  would 
have  thought  they  might  do  more  than  tolerate  each 
other,  assuming  that  some  common  purpose  had 
brought  them  here. 

Kennedy  rang  the  bell  and  we  could  see  that  all 
looked  surprised,  for  they  had  heard  no  car  ap 
proach.  A  servant  opened  the  door  and  before  he 
knew  it,  Kennedy  had  pushed  past  him,  talcing  no 
chances  at  a  rebuff  after  the  experience  over  the 
wire. 

"Kennedy!"  exclaimed  Lockwood  and  Alfonso 
together. 

"Where  is  Inez  Mendoza?"  demanded  Craig, 
without  returning  the  greeting. 

"  Inez?  "  they  repeated  blankly. 

Kennedy  faced  them  squarely. 

"Come,  now.  Where  is  she?  This  is  a  show 
down.  You  may  as  well  lay  your  cards  on  the  table. 
Where  is  she — what  have  you  done  with  her?" 

The  de  Moches  looked  at  Lockwood  and  he 
looked  at  them,  but  neither  spoke  for  a  moment. 

"Walter,"  ordered  Kennedy,  "there's  the  tele 
phone.  Get  the  managing  editor  of  the  Star  and 
tell  him  where  we  are.  Every  newspaper  in  the 


THE  VANISHER  251 

United  States,  every  police  officer  in  every  city  will 
have  the  story  in  twelve  hours,  if  you  precious  ras 
cals  don't  come  across.  There — I  give  you  until 
central  gets  the  Star." 

"Why — what  has  happened?"  asked  Lockwood, 
who  was  the  first  to  recover  his  tongue. 

"  Don't  stand  there  asking  me  what  has  hap 
pened,"  cried  Kennedy  impatiently.  "  Tickle  that 
hook  again,  Walter.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
you  have  planned  to  get  Inez  Mendoza  away  from 
my  influence — to  kidnap  her,  in  other  words — — ' 

"We  kidnap  her?"  gasped  Lockwood.  "What 
do  you  mean,  man?  I  know  nothing  of  this  .  Is  she 
gone?"  He  wheeled  on  the  de  Moches.  "This 
is  some  of  your  work.  If  anything  happens  to  that 
girl — there  isn't  an  Indian  feud  can  equal  the  ven 
geance  I  will  take !  " 

Alfonso  was  absolutely  speechless.  Seiiora  de 
Moche  started  to  speak,  but  Kennedy  interrupted 
her.  "  That  will  do  from  you,"  he  cut  short.  "  You 
have  passed  beyond  the  bounds  of  politeness  when 
you  deliberately  went  out  of  your  way  to  throw  me 
on  a  wrong  trail  while  some  one  was  making  off  with 
a  young  and  innocent  girl.  You  are  a  woman  of 
the  world.  You  will  take  your  medicine  like  a 
man,  too." 

I  don't  think  I  have  ever  seen  Kennedy  in  a  more 
towering  rage  than  he  was  at  that  moment. 

"  When  it  was  only  a  matter  of  a  paltry  poisoned 
dagger  at  stake  and  a  fortune  that  may  be  mythical 
or  may  be  like  that  of  Croesus,  for  all  I  care,  we 


252         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

could  play  the  game  according  to  rules,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "  But  when  you  begin  to  tamper  with  a 
life  like  that  of  Inez  de  Mendoza — you  have  passed 
the  bounds  of  all  consideration.  You  have  the  Star? 
Telephone  the  story  anyhow.  We'll  arbitrate  after 
ward." 

I  think,  as  I  related  the  facts  to  my  editor,  it 
sobered  us  all  a  great  deal. 

"  Kennedy,"  appealed  Lockwood  at  last,  as  I  hung 
up  the  receiver,  "will  you  listen  to  my  story?" 

"  It  is  what  I  am  here  for,"  replied  Craig  grimly. 

"  Believe  it  or  not,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned," 
asserted  Lockwood,  "  this  is  all  news  to  me.  My 
God — where  is  she?" 

"  Then  how  came  you  here?  "  demanded  Craig. 

"  I  can  speak  only  for  myself,"  hastened  Lock- 
wood.  "  If  you  had  asked  where  Whitney  was,  I 
could  have  understood,  but " 

"Well,  where  is  he?" 

"  We  don't  know.  Early  this  afternoon  I  received 
a  hurried  message  from  him — at  least  I  suppose  it 
was  from  him — that  he  had  the  dagger  and  was  up 
here.  He  said — I'll  be  perfectly  frank — he  said 
that  he  was  arranging  a  conference  at  which  all  of 
us  were  to  be  present  to  decide  what  to  do." 

"  Meanwhile  I  was  to  be  kept  away  at  any  cost," 
supplied  Kennedy  sarcastically.  "  Where  did  he 
get  it?" 

II  He  didn't  say." 

"  And  you  didn't  care,  as  long  as  he  had  it,"  added 


THE  VANISHER  253 

Craig,  then,  turning  to  the  de  Moches,  "  And  what 
is  your  tale?  " 

Senora  de  Moche  did  not  lose  her  self-possession 
for  an  instant.  "  We  received  the  same  message. 
When  you  called,  I  thought  it  would  be  best  for 
Alfonso  to  go  alone,  so  I  telephoned  and  caught 
him  at  the  garage  and  when  my  train  arrived  here, 
he  was  waiting." 

"None  of  you  have  seen  Whitney  here?"  asked 
Kennedy,  to  which  all  nodded  in  the  negative. 
"  Well,  you  seem  to  agree  pretty  well  in  your  stories, 
anyhow.  Let  me  take  a  chance  with  the  servants." 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  go  into  another's  house 
hold  and  without  any  official  position  quiz  and  ex 
pect  to  get  the  truth  out  of  the  servants.  But  Ken 
nedy's  very  wrath  seemed  to  awe  them.  They  an 
swered  in  spite  of  themselves. 

It  seemed  clear  that  as  far  as  they  went  both 
guests  and  servants  were  telling  the  truth.  Whit 
ney  had  made  the  run  up  from  the  city  earlier  in  the 
afternoon,  had  stayed  only  a  short  time,  then  had 
gone  back,  leaving  word  that  he  would  be  there 
again  before  his  guests  arrived. 

They  all  professed  to  be  as  mystified  as  ourselves 
now  over  the  outcome  of  the  whole  affair.  He  had 
not  come  back  and  there  had  been  no  word  from  him. 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  remarked  Craig,  watch 
ing  the  faces  before  him  as  he  spoke.  "  Inez  is 
gone.  She  has  been  spirited  away  without  even 
leaving  a  trace.  Her  maid  Juanita  told  me  that. 
Now  if  Whitney  is  gone,  too,  it  looks  as  if  he  had 


254         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

planned  to  double-cross  the  whole  crowd  of  you  and 
leave  you  safely  marooned  up  here  with  nothing 
left  but  your  common  hatred  of  me.  Much  good 
may  it  do  you." 

Lockwood  clenched  his  fists  savagely,  not  at  Ken 
nedy  but  at  the  thought  that  Craig  had  suggested. 
His  face  set  itself  in  tense  lines  as  he  swore  ven 
geance  on  all  jointly  and  severally  if  any  harm 
came  to  Inez.  I  almost  forgot  my  suspicions  of  him 
in  admiration. 

"  Nothing  like  this  would  ever  have  happened  if 
she  had  stayed  in  Peru,"  exclaimed  Alfonso  bitterly. 
"  Oh,  why  did  her  father  ever  bring  her  here  to  this 
land  of  danger?  " 

The  idea  seemed  novel  to  me  to  look  on  America 
as  a  lawless,  uncultured  country,  until  I  reflected  on 
the  usual  Latin-American  opinion  of  us  as  barbarians. 

Lockwood  frowned  but  said  nothing,  for  a  time. 
Then  he  turned  suddenly  to  the  Senora,  "  You  were 
intimate  enough  with  him,"  he  said.  "  Did  he  tell 
you  any  more  than  he  told  us?  " 

It  was  clear  that  Lockwood  felt  now  that  every 
man's  hand  was  against  him. 

I  thought  I  could  discover  a  suppressed  gleam  of 
satisfaction  in  her  wonderful  eyes  as  she  answered, 
"  Nothing  more.  It  was  only  that  I  carried  out 
what  he  asked  me." 

Could  it  be  that  she  was  taking  a  subtle  delight 
in  the  turn  of  events — the  working  out  of  a  curse  on 
the  treasure-secret  which  the  fatal  dagger  bore?  I 
could  not  say.  But  it  would  not  have  needed  much 


THE  VANISHER  255 

superstition  to  convince  any  one  that  the  curse  on 
the  Gold  of  the  Gods  was  as  genuine  as  any  that  had 
ever  been  uttered,  as  it  heaped  up  crime  on  crime. 

We  waited  in  silence,  the  more  hopeless  as  the 
singing  of  the  night  insects  italicized  our  isolation 
from  the  organized  instruments  of  man  for  the 
righting  of  wrong.  Here  we  were,  each  suspecting 
the  other,  in  the  home  of  a  man  whom  all  mistrusted. 

"  There's  no  use  sitting  here  doing  nothing,"  ex 
claimed  Lcckwood  in  whose  mind  was  evidently  the 
same  thought,  "  not  so  long  as  we  have  the  tele 
phone  and  the  automobiles." 

These,  at  least,  were  our  last  bonds  with  the  great 
world  that  had  wrapped  a  dark  night  about  a  darker 
mystery. 

:'  There  are  many  miles  of  wire — many  miles  of 
road.  Which  way  shall  we  turn?" 

Senora  de  Moche  seemed  to  take  a  fiendish  delight 
in  the  words  as  she  said  them.  It  was  as  though  she 
challenged  our  helplessness  in  the  face  of  a  power 
that  was  greater  than  us  all. 

Lockwood  flashed  a  look  of  suspicion  in  her 
direction.  As  for  myself,  I  had  never  been  able  to 
make  the  woman  out.  To-night  she  seemed  like  a 
sort  of  dea  ex  machina,  who  sat  apart,  playing  on 
the  passions  of  a  group  of  puppet  men  whom  she 
set  against  each  other  until  all  should  be  involved  in 
a  common  ruin. 

It  was  impossible,  in  the  silence  of  this  far-off 
lonely  place  in  the  country,  not  to  feel  the  weirdness 
of  it  all. 


256         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Once  I  closed  my  eyes  and  was  startled  by  the 
uncanny  vividness  of  a  mind-picture  that  came  un 
bidden.  It  was  of  a  scrap  of  paper  on  which,  in 
rough  capitals  was  printed: 

BEWARE  THE  CURSE  OF  MANSICHE  ON 
THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS. 


XXIII 
THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH 

"  T^\  O  you  suppose  he  really  had  the  dagger,  or  was 
JL/    that  a  lie?  "    I  asked,  with  an  effort  shaking 
off  the  fateful  feeling  that  had  come  over  me  as  if 
some  one  were  casting  a  spell. 

"  There  is  one  way  to  find  out,"  returned  Craig, 
as  though  glad  of  the  suggestion. 

Though  they  hated  him,  they  seemed  forced  to 
admit,  for  the  time,  his  leadership.  He  rose  and 
the  rest  followed  as  he  went  into  Whitney's  library. 

He  switched  on  the  lights.  There  in  a  corner  back 
of  the  desk  stood  a  safe.  Somehow  or  other  it 
seemed  to  defy  us,  even  though  its  master  was  gone. 
I  lookid  at  it  a  moment.  It  was  a  most  powerful 
affair,  companion  to  that  in  the  office  of  which 
Whitney  was  so  proud,  built  of  layer  on  layer  of 
chrome  steel,  with  a  door  that  was  air  tight  and 
soup-proof,  bidding  defiance  to  all  yeggmen  and 
petermen. 

Lockwood  fingered  the  combination  hopelessly. 
There  were  some  millions  of  combinations  and  per 
mutations  that  only  a  mathematician  could  calculate. 
Only  one  was  any  good.  That  one  was  locked  in 
the  mind  of  the  man  who  now  seemed  to  baffle  us 
as  did  his  strong-box. 

257 


258          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

I  placed  my  hand  on  the  cold,  defiant  surface. 
It  would  take  hours  to  drill  a  safe  like  that,  and 
even  then  it  might  turn  the  points  of  the  drills. 
Explosives  might  sooner  wreck  the  house  and  bring 
it  down  over  the  head  of  the  man  who  attacked  this 
monster. 

"What  can  we  do?"  asked  Senora  de  Moche, 
seeming  to  mock  us,  as  though  the  safe  itself  were 
an  inhuman  thing  that  blocked  our  path. 

"  Do?  "  repeated  Kennedy  decisively,  "  I'll  show 
you  what  we  can  do.  If  Lockwood  will  drive  me 
down  to  the  railroad  station  in  his  car,  I'll  show 
you  something  that  looks  like  action.  Will  you  do 
it?" 

The  request  was  more  like  a  command.  Lock- 
wood  said  nothing,  but  moved  toward  the  porte- 
cochere,  where  he  had  left  his  car  parked  just  aside 
from  the  broad  driveway. 

"  Walter,  you  will  stay  here,"  ordered  Kennedy. 
"  Let  no  one  leave.  If  any  one  comes,  don't  let 
him  get  away.  We  shan't  be  gone  long." 

I  sat  awkwardly  enough,  scarcely  speaking  a 
word,  as  Kennedy  dashed  down  to  the  railroad  sta 
tion.  Neither  Alfonso  nor  his  mother  betrayed 
either  by  word  or  action  a  hint  of  what  was  passing 
in  their  minds.  Somehow,  though  I  did  not  under 
stand  it,  I  felt  that  Lockwood  might  square  himself. 
But  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  these  two  might 
very  possibly  be  at  the  bottom  of  almost  anything. 

It  was  with  some  relief  that  I  heard  the  car 
approaching  again.  I  had  no  idea  what  Kennedy 


THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH          259 

was  after,  whether  it  was  dynamite  or  whether  he 
contemplated  a  trip  to  New  York.  I  was  surprised 
to  see  him,  with  Lockwood,  hurrying  up  the  steps 
to  the  porch,  each  with  a  huge  tank  studded  with 
bolts  like  a  boiler. 

"  There,"  ordered  Craig,  "  set  the  oxygen  there," 
as  he  placed  his  own  tank  on  the  opposite  side. 
"  That  watchman  thought  I  was  bluffing  when  I  said 
I'd  get  an  order  from  the  company,  if  I  had  to  wake 
up  the  president  of  the  road.  It  was  too  good  a 
chance  to  miss.  One  doesn't  find  such  a  complete 
outfit  ready  to  hand  every  day." 

Out  of  the  tanks  stout  tubes  led,  with  stop-cocks 
and  gauges  at  the  top.  From  a  case  under  his  arm 
Kennedy  produced  a  curious  arrangement  like  a  huge 
hook,  with  a  curved  neck  and  a  sharp  beak.  Really 
it  consisted  of  two  metal  tubes  which  ran  into  a  sort 
of  cylinder,  or  mixing  chamber,  above  the  nozzle, 
while  parallel  to  them  ran  a  third  separate  tube  with 
a  second  nozzle  of  its  own. 

Quickly  he  joined  the  ends  of  the  tubes  from  the 
tanks  to  the  metal  hook,  the  oxygen  tank  being 
joined  to  two  of  the  tubes  of  the  hook,  and  the 
second  tank  being  joined  to  the  other.  With  a 
match  he  touched  the  nozzle  gingerly.  Instantly  a 
hissing,  spitting  noise  followed,  and  an  intense, 
blinding  needle  of  flame. 

"  Now  we'll  see  what  an  oxyacetylene  blow-pipe 
will  do  to  you,  old  stick-in-the-mud,"  cried  Kennedy, 
as  he  advanced  toward  the  safe,  addressing  it  as 
though  it  had  been  a  thing  of  life  that  stood  in  his 


260         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

way.     "  I  think  this  will  make  short  work  of  you." 

Almost  as  he  said  it,  the  steel  beneath  the  blow 
pipe  became  incandescent.  For  some  time  he 
laboured  to  get  a  starting-point  for  the  flame  of  the 
high-pressure  torch. 

It  was  a  brilliant  sight.  The  terrific  heat  from 
the  first  nozzle  caused  the  metal  to  glow  under  the 
torch  as  if  in  an  open-hearth  furnace.  From  the 
second  nozzle  issued  a  stream  of  oxygen,  under 
which  the  hot  metal  of  the  door  was  completely 
consumed. 

The  force  of  the  blast,  as  the  compressed  oxygen 
and  acetylene  were  expelled,  carried  a  fine  spray  of 
the  disintegrated  metal  visibly  before  it.  And  yet 
it  was  not  a  big  hole  that  it  made — scarcely  an 
eighth  of  an  inch  wide,  but  clean  and  sharp  as  if  a 
buzz-saw  were  eating  its  way  through  a  plank  of 
white-pine. 

With  tense  muscles  Kennedy  held  this  terrific  en 
gine  of  destruction  and  moved  it  as  easily  as  if  it  had 
been  a  mere  pencil  of  light.  He  was  the  calmest  of 
all  of  us  as  we  crowded  about  him,  but  at  a  respect 
ful  distance. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,"  he  remarked  hastily, 
never  pausing  for  a  moment  in  his  work,  "  that 
acetylene  is  composed  of  carbon  and  hydrogen.  As 
it  burns  at  the  end  of  the  nozzle  it  is  broken  into 
carbon  and  hydrogen — the  carbon  gives  the  high 
temperature  and  the  hydrogen  forms  a  cone  that 
protects  the  end  of  the  blow-pipe  from  being  itself 
burnt  up." 


THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH          261 

"  But  isn't  it  dangerous?  "  I  asked,  amazed  at  the 
skill  with  which  he  handled  the  blow-pipe. 

"  Not  particularly — when  you  know  how  to  do  it. 
In  that  tank  is  a  porous  asbestos  packing  saturated 
with  acetone,  under  pressure.  Thus  they  carry 
acetylene  safely,  for  it  is  dissolved  and  the  possibility 
of  explosion  is  minimized. 

"  This  mixing  chamber,  by  which  I  am  holding 
the  torch,  where  the  oxygen  and  acetylene  mix,  is 
also  designed  in  such  a  way  as  to  prevent  a  flash 
back.  The  best  thing  about  this  style  of  blow-pipe 
is  the  ease  with  which  it  can  be  transported  and  the 
curious  purposes — like  this — to  which  it  can  be  put." 

He  paused  a  moment  to  test  what  had  been  burnt. 
The  rest  of  the  safe  seemed  as  firm  as  ever. 

"  Humph!  "  I  heard  one  of  them,  I  think  it  was 
Alfonso,  mutter.  I  resented  it,  but  Kennedy  affected 
not  to  hear. 

"  When  I  shut  off  the  oxygen  in  this  second  jet," 
he  resumed,  "  you  see  the  torch  merely  heats  the 
steel.  I  can  get  a  heat  of  approximately  sixty-three 
hundred  degrees  Fahrenheit,  and  the  flame  will  exert 
a  pressure  of  fifty  pounds  to  the  square  inch." 

"  Wonderful !  "  exclaimed  Lockwood,  who  had 
not  heard  the  suppressed  disapproval  of  Alfonso,  and 
was  watching,  in  undisguised  admiration  at  the  thing 
itself,  regardless  of  consequences.  "  Kennedy,  how 
did  you  ever  think  of  such  a  thing?" 

"  Why,  it's  used  for  welding,  you  know,"  an 
swered  Craig,  as  he  continued  to  work  calmly  in  the 
growing  excitement.  "  I  first  saw  it  in  actual  use 


262         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

in  mending  a  cracked  cylinder  in  an  automobile.  The 
cylinder  was  repaired  without  being  taken  out  at  all. 
I've  seen  it  weld  new  teeth  and  build  up  worn  teeth 
on  gearing,  as  good  as  new." 

He  paused  to  let  us  see  the  terrifically  heated 
metal  under  the  flame. 

"  You  remember  when  we  were  talking  to  the 
watchman  down  there  at  the  station,  Walter?"  he 
asked.  "  I  saw  this  thing  in  that  complete  little  shop 
of  theirs.  It  interested  me.  See.  I  turn  on  the 
oxygen  now  in  the  second  nozzle.  The  blow-pipe  is 
no  longer  an  instrument  for  joining  metals  together, 
but  for  cutting  them  asunder. 

'  The  steel  burns  just  as  you,  perhaps,  have  seen 
a  watch-spring  burn  in  a  jar  of  oxygen.  Steel,  hard 
or  soft,  tempered,  annealed,  chrome,  or  Harveyized, 
it  all  burns  just  about  as  fast,  and  just  about  as  easily 
under  this  torch.  And  it's  cheap,  too.  This  attack 
— aside  from  what  it  costs  to  the  safe — may  amount 
to  a  couple  of  dollars  as  far  as  the  blow-pipe  is 
concerned — quite  a  difference  from  the  thousands  of 
dollars'  loss  that  would  follow  an  attempt  to  blow 
a  safe  like  this  one." 

We  had  nothing  to  say.  We  stood  in  awe-struck 
amazement  as  the  torch  slowly,  inexorably  traced 
a  thin  line  along  the  edge  of  the  combination. 

Minute  after  minute  sped  by,  as  the  line  burned 
by  the  blow-pipe  cut  around  the  lock.  It  seemed 
hours,  but  really  it  was  minutes.  I  wondered  when 
he  would  have  cut  about  the  whole  lock.  He  was 
cutting  clear  through  and  around  it,  severing  it  as  if 
with  a  superhuman  knife. 


THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH          263 

With  something  more  than  half  his  work  done,  he 
paused  a  moment  to  rest. 

"  Walter,"  he  directed,  mopping  his  forehead,  for 
it  was  real  work  directing  that  flaming  knife,  "  get 
New  York  on  the  wire.  See  if  O'Connor  is  at  his 
office.  If  he  has  any  report,  I  want  to  talk  to 
him." 

It  was  getting  late  and  the  service  was  slackening 
up.  1  had  some  trouble,  especially  in  getting  a  good 
connection,  but  at  last  I  got  headquarters  and  was 
overjoyed  to  hear  O'Connor's  bluff,  Irish  voice  boom 
back  at  me. 

"Hello,  Jameson,"  he  called.  "Where  on  earth 
are  you?  I've  been  trying  to  get  hold  of  Kennedy 
for  a  couple  of  hours.  Rockledge?  Well,  is  Ken 
nedy  there?  Put  him  on,  will  you?" 

I  called  Craig  and,  as  I  did  so,  my  curiosity  got 
the  better  of  me  and  I  sought  out  an  extension  of 
the  wire  in  a  den  across  the  hall  from  the  library, 
where  I  could  listen  in  on  what  was  said. 

"  Hello,  O'Connor,"  answered  Craig.  "  Any 
thing  from  Burke  yet?" 

"  Yes,"  came  back  the  welcome  news.  "  I  think 
he  has  a  clue.  We  found  out  from  here  that  she 
received  a  long  distance  message  during  the  after 
noon.  Where  did  Jameson  say  you  were — Rock- 
ledge? — that's  the  place.  Of  course  we  don't  know 
what  the  message  was,  but  anyhow  she  went  out  to 
meet  some  one  right  after  that.  The  time  corre 
sponds  with  what  the  maid  says." 

"Anything  else?"  asked  Craig.  "Have  you 
found  any  one  who  saw  her?  " 


264         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  Yes.  I  think  she  went  over  to  your  laboratory. 
But  you  were  out." 

"Confound  it!  "  interrupted  Craig. 

"  Some  one  saw  a  woman  there." 

"  It  wasn't  the  maid?  " 

"  No,  this  was  earlier — in  the  afternoon.  She  left 
and  walked  across  the  campus  to  the  Museum." 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  any  word  of  Norton?  " 

"  I'm  coming  to  that  She  inquired  for  Norton. 
The  curator  has  given  a  good  description.  But  he 
was  out — hadn't  been  there  for  some  time.  She 
seemed  to  be  very  much  upset  over  something.  She 
went  away.  After  that  we've  lost  her." 

"  Not  another  trace?" 

"  Wait  a  minute.  We  had  this  Rockledge  call  to 
work  on.  So  we  started  backward  on  that.  It  was 
Whitney's  place,  I  found  out.  We  could  locate  the 
car  at  the  start  and  at  the  finish.  He  left  the  Prince 
Edward  Albert  and  went  up  there  first.  Then  he 
must  have  come  back  to  the  city  again.  No  one  at 
the  hotel  saw  him  the  second  time. 

"What  then?"  hastened  Craig. 

"  She  may  have  met  him  somewhere,  though  it's 
not  likely  she  had  any  intention  of  going  away.  All 
the  rest  of  those  people  you  have  up  there  seem  to 
have  gone  prepared.  We  got  something  on  each 
of  them.  Also  you'll  be  interested  to  know  I've 
got  a  report  of  your  own  doings.  It  was  right, 
Kennedy,  I  don't  blame  you.  I'd  have  done  the 
same  with  Burke  on  the  job.  How  are  you  making 


THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH          265 

out?      What?      You're    cracking    a    crib?      With 
what?" 

O'Connor  whistled  as  Kennedy  related  the  story 
of  the  blow-pipe. 

"  I  think  you're  on  the  right  track,"  he  com 
mended.  "  There's  nothing  to  show  it,  but  I  be 
lieve  Whitney  told  her  something  that  changed  her 
mind  about  going  up  there.  Probably  met  her  in 
some  tea  room,  although  we  can't  find  anything 
from  the  tea  rooms.  Anyhow,  Burke's  out  trailing 
along  the  road  from  New  York  to  Rockledge  and 
I'm  getting  reports  from  him  whenever  he  hits  a 
telephone." 

"  I  wish  you'd  ask  him  to  call  me,  here,  if  he  gets 
anything." 

u  Sure  I  will.  The  last  call  was  from  the  Chateau 
Rouge, — that's  about  halfway.  There  was  a  car 
with  a  man  and  a  woman  who  answers  her  descrip 
tion.  Then,  there  was  another  car,  too." 

"Another  car?" 

"  Yes — that's  where  Norton  crosses  the  trail 
again.  We  searched  his  apartment.  It  was  upset — 
like  Whitney's.  I  haven't  finished  with  that.  But 
we  have  a  list  of  all  the  private  hacking  places. 
I've  located  one  that  hired  a  car  to  a  man  answering 
Norton's  description.  I  think  he's  on  the  trail. 
That's  what  I  meant  by  another  car." 

"What's  he  doing?" 

*'  Maybe  he  has  a  hunch.  I'm  getting  superstitious 
about  this  case.  You  know  Luis  de  Mendoza  has 
thirteen  letters  in  it.  Leslie  told  me  something 


266         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

about  a  threat  he  had — a  curse.  You  better  look 
out  for  those  two  greasers  you  have  up  there.  They 
may  have  another  knife  for  you." 

Kennedy  glanced  over  at  the  de  Moches,  not  in 
fear  but  in  amusement  at  what  they  would  think  if 
they  could  hear  O'Connor's  uncultured  opinion. 

"  All  right,  O'Connor,"  said  Craig,  "  everything 
seems  to  be  going  as  well  as  we  can  expect.  Don't 
forget  to  tell  Burke  I'm  here." 

"  I  won't.  Just  a  minute.  He's  on  another  wire 
for  me." 

Kennedy  waited  impatiently.  He  wanted  to  finish 
his  job  on  the  safe  before  some  one  came  walking  in 
and  stopped  it,  yet  there  was  always  a  chance  that 
Burke  might  turn  up  something. 

"  Hello,"  called  O'Connor  a  few  minutes  later. 
"  He's  still  following  the  two  cars.  He  thinks  the 
one  with  the  woman  in  it  is  Whitney's,  all  right. 
But  they've  got  off  the  main  road.  They  must 
think  they're  being  followed. 

"  Or  else  have  changed  their  destination,"  re 
turned  Craig.  "  Tell  him  that.  Maybe  Whitney 
had  no  intention  of  coming  up  here.  He  may  have 
done  this  thing  just  to  throw  these  people  off  up 
here,  too.  I  can't  say.  I  can  tell  better  whether  he 
intended  to  come  back  after  I've  got  this  safe  open. 
I'll  let  you  know." 

Kennedy  rang  off. 

"Any  news  of  Inez?  "  asked  Lockwood  who  had 
been  fuming  with  impatience. 


THE  ACETYLENE  TORCH          267 

"  She's  probably  on  her  way  up  here,"  returned 
Craig  briefly,  taking  up  the  blow-pipe  again. 

Alfonso  remained  silent.  The  Senora  could 
scarcely  hide  her  excitement.  If  there  were  any 
thing  in  telepathy,  I  am  sure  that  she  read  every 
thing  that  was  said  over  the  wire. 

Quickly  Craig  resumed  his  work,  biting  through 
the  solid  steel  as  if  it  had  been  mere  pasteboard,  the 
blow-pipe  showering  on  each  side  a  brilliant  spray 
of  sparks,  a  gaudy,  pyrotechnic  display. 

Suddenly,  with  a  quick  motion,  Kennedy  turned 
off  the  acetylene  and  oxygen.  The  last  bolt  had  been 
severed,  the  lock  was  useless.  A  gentle  push  of  the 
hand,  and  he  swung  the  once  impregnable  door  on 
its  delicately  poised  hinges  as  easily  as  if  he  had 
merely  said,  "  Open  sesame." 

Craig  reached  in  and  pulled  open  a  steel  drawer 
directly  in  front  of  him. 

There  in  the  shadow  lay  the  dagger — with  its 
incalculably  valuable  secret,  a  poor,  unattractive 
piece  of  metal,  but  with  a  fascination  such  as  no  other 
object,  I  had  ever  seen,  possessed. 

There  was  a  sudden  cry.  The  Senora  had  darted 
ahead,  as  if  to  clasp  its  handle  and  unloose  the  mur 
derous  blade  that  nestled  in  its  three-sided  sheath. 

Before  she  could  reach  it,  Kennedy  had  seized 
her  hand  in  his  iron  grasp,  while  with  the  other  he 
picked  up  the  dagger. 

They  stood  there  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes. 

Then  the  Senora  burst  into  a  hysterical  laugh. 


268         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

"  The  curse  is  on  all  who  possess  it !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  smiled  Kennedy  quietly,  releasing 

her  wrist  as  he  dropped  the  dagger  into  his  pocket, 

"  I  am  only  the  trustee." 


XXIV 
THE  POLICE  DOG 

CRAIG  faced  us,  but  there  was  no  air  of  triumph 
in  his  manner.     I  knew  what  was  in  his  mind. 
He  had  the  dagger.    But  he  had  lost  Inez. 

What  were  we  to  do?  There  seemed  to  be  no 
way  to  turn.  We  knew  something  of  the  manner  of 
her  disappearance.  At  first  she  had,  apparently, 
gone  willingly.  But  it  was  inconceivable  that  she 
stayed  willingly,  now. 

I  recalled  all  the  remarks  that  Whitney  had  ever 
made  about  her.  Had  the  truth  come  out  in  his 
jests?  Was  it  Inez,  not  the  dagger,  that  he  really 
wanted? 

Or  was  he  merely  the  instrument  of  one  or  all  of 
these  people  before  us,  and  was  this  an  elaborate  plan 
to  throw  Kennedy  off  and  prove  an  alibi  for  them? 
He  had  been  the  partner  of  Lockwood,  the  intimate 
of  de  Moche.  Which  was  he  working  for,  now — 
or  was  he  working  for  himself  alone? 

No  answer  came  to  my  questions,  and  I  reflected 
that  none  would  ever  come,  if  we  sat  here.  Yet 
there  seemed  to  be  no  way  to  turn,  without  risking 
putting  ourselves  in  a  worse  position  than  before. 
At  least,  until  we  had  some  better  plan  of  campaign, 
we  occupied  a  strategic  advantage  in  Whitney's  own 
house. 

269 


270          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

The  hours  of  the  night  wore  on.  Midnight  came. 
This  inaction  was  killing.  Anything  would  be  better 
than  that. 

Suddenly  the  telephone  startled  us.  We  had 
wanted  it  to  ring,  yet  when  it  rang  we  were  afraid 
of  it.  What  was  its  message?  It  was  with  palpitat 
ing  hearts  that  we  listened,  while  Craig  answered. 

"  Yes,  Burke,"  we  heard  him  reply,  "  this  is  Ken 
nedy." 

There  came  a  pause  during  which  we  could  scarcely 
wait. 

"Where  are  you  now?  Cold  Stream.  That  is 
about  twelve  miles  from  Rockledge — not  on  the 
New  York  road — the  other  road.  I  see.  All  right. 
We'll  be  there.  Yes,  wait  for  us." 

As  Craig  hung  up  the  receiver,  we  crowded  for 
ward.  "Have  they  found  her?"  asked  Lockwood 
hoarsely. 

"  It  was  from  Burke,"  replied  Kennedy  deliber 
ately.  "  He  is  at  a  place  called  Cold  Stream,  twelve 
miles  from  here.  He  tells  me  that  we  can  find  it 
easily — on  a  state  road,  at  a  sharp  curve  that  has 
been  widened  out,  just  this  side  of  the  town..  There 
has  been  an  accident — Whitney's  car  is  wrecked." 

Lockwood  seized  his  elbow.  "  My  God,"  he  ex 
claimed,  "  tell  me — she  isn't — hurt,  is  she?  Quick!  " 

"  So  far  Burke  has  not  been  able  to  discover  a 
trace  of  a  thing,  except  the  wrecked  car,"  replied 
Kennedy.  "  I  told  him  I  would  be  over  directly. 
Lockwood,  you  may  take  Jameson  and  Alfonso.  I 
will  go  with  the  Senora  and  their  driver." 


THE  POLICE  DOG  271 

I  saw  instantly  why  he  had  divided  the  party. 
Neither  mother  nor  son  was  to  have  a  chance  to 
slip  away  from  us.  Surely  both  Lockwood  and  I 
should  be  a  match  for  Alfonso.  Senora  de  Moche 
he  would  trust  to  none  but  himself. 

Eagerly  now  we  prepared  for  the  journey,  late 
though  it  was.  No  one  now  had  a  thought  of  rest. 
There  could  be  no  rest  with  that  mystery  of  Inez 
challenging  us. 

We  were  off  at  last,  Lockwood's  car  leading,  for 
although  he  did  not  know  the  roads  exactly,  he  had 
driven  much  about  the  country.  I  should  have  liked 
to  have  sat  in  front  with  him,  but  it  seemed  safer 
to  stay  in  the  back  with  Alfonso.  In  fact,  I  don't 
think  Lockwood  would  have  consented,  otherwise,  to 
have  his  rival  back  of  him. 

Kennedy  and  the  Senora  made  a  strange  pair,  the 
ancient  order  and  the  ultra-modern.  There  was  a 
peculiar  light  in  her  eyes  that  gleamed  forth  at  the 
mere  mention  of  the  words,  "  wreck."  Though  she 
said  nothing,  I  knew  that  through  her  mind  was  run 
ning  the  one  tenacious  thought.  It  was  the  work 
ing  out  of  the  curse!  As  for  Craig,  he  was  always 
seeking  the  plausible,  natural  reason  for  what  to  the 
rest  of  us  was  inexplicable,  often  supernatural.  To 
him  she  was  a  fascinating  study. 

On  we  sped,  for  Lockwood  was  a  good  driver  and 
now  was  spurred  on  by  an  anxiety  that  he  could  not 
conceal.  Yet  his  hand  never  faltered  at  the  wheel. 
He  seemed  to  read  the  signs  at  the  cross-roads 
without  slackening  speed.  In  spite  of  all  that  I 


272         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

knew,  I  found  myself  compelled  to  admire  him. 
Alfonso  sat  back,  for  the  most  part  silent.  The 
melancholy  in  his  face  seemed  to  have  deepened.  He 
seemed  to  feel  that  he  was  but  a  toy  in  the  hands 
of  fate.  Yet  I  knew  that  underneath  must  smoulder 
the  embers  of  a  bitter  resentment. 

It  seemed  an  interminable  ride  even  at  the  speed 
which  we  were  making.  Twelve  miles  in  the  black 
ness  of  a  country  night  can  seem  like  a  hundred. 

At  last  as  we  turned  a  curve,  and  Lockwood's 
headlights  shone  on  the  white  fence  that  skirted  the 
outer  edge  of  the  road  as  it  swung  around  a  hill 
that  rose  sharply  to  our  left  and  dropped  off  in  a 
sort  of  ravine  at  the  right  beyond  the  fence,  I  felt 
the  car  tremble  as  he  put  on  the  brakes. 

A  man  was  waving  his  arms  for  us  to  stop,  and  as 
we  did,  he  ran  forward.  He  peered  in  at  us  and  I 
recognized  Burke. 

"  Whe-where's  Kennedy?  "  he  asked,  disappointed, 
for  the  moment  fearing  he  had  made  a  mistake  and 
signalled  the  wrong  car. 

"  Coming,"  I  replied,  as  we  heard  the  driver  of 
the  other  car  sounding  his  horn  furiously  as  he  ap 
proached  the  curve. 

Burke  jumped  to  the  safe  side  of  the  road  and 
ran  on  back  to  signal  to  stop.  It  was  then  for 
the  first  time  that  I  paid  particular  attention  to 
the  fence  ahead  of  us  on  which  now  both  our  own  and 
the  lights  of  the  other  car  shone.  At  one  point  it 
was  torn  and  splintered,  as  though  something  had 
gone  through  it. 

"  Great  heavens,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  they 


THE  POLICE  DOG  273 

went  over  that?"  muttered  Lockwood,  jumping 
down  and  running  forward. 

Kennedy  had  joined  us  by  this  time  and  we  all 
hurried  over.  Down  in  the  ravine  we  could  see  a 
lantern  which  Burke  had  brought  and  which  was 
now  resting  on  the  overturned  chassis  of  the  car. 

Lockwood  was  down  there  ahead  of  us  all,  peering 
under  the  heavy  body  fearfully,  as  if  he  expected 
to  see  two  forms  of  mangled  flesh.  He  straightened 
up,  then  took  the  lantern  and  flashed  it  about.  There 
was  nothing  except  cushions  and  a  few  parts  of  the 
car  within  the  radius  of  its  gleam. 

"  Where  are  they?  "  he  demanded,  turning  to  us. 
"  It's  Whitney's  car,  all  right." 

Burke  shook  his  head.  "  I've  traced  the  car  so 
far.  They  were  getting  ahead  of  me,  when  this 
happened." 

Together  we  managed  to  right  the  car  which  was 
on  a  hillock.  It  sank  a  little  further  down  the  hill, 
but  at  least  we  could  look  inside  it. 

"  Bring  the  lantern,"  ordered  Kennedy. 

Minutely,  part  by  part,  he  went  over  the  car. 
"  Something  went  wrong,"  he  muttered.  "  It  is  too 
much  wrecked  to  tell  what  it  was.  Flash  the  light 
over  here,"  he  directed,  stepping  over  the  seat  into 
the  back  of  the  tonneau. 

A  moment  later  he  took  the  light  himself  and  held 
it  close  to  the  rods  that  supported  the  top.  I  saw 
him  reach  down  and  pull  from  them  a  few  strands 
of  dark  hair  that  had  caught  between  the  rods  and 
had  been  pulled  out  or  broken. 

"  No  need  of  Bertillon's  palette  of  human  hair  to 


274         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

identify  that,"  he  exclaimed.  "  There  isn't  time  to 
study  it  and  if  there  were  it  would  be  unnecessary. 
She  was  with  him,  all  right." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Lockwood.  "  But  where  is  she 
now — where  is  he?  Could  they  have  been  hurt, 
picked  up  by  some  one  and  carried  where  they  could 
get  aid?" 

Burke  shook  his  head.  "  I  inquired  at  the  nearest 
house  ahead.  I  had  to  do  it  in  order  to  telephone. 
They  knew  nothing." 

"  But  they  are  gone,"  persisted  Lockwood. 
'  There  is  the  bottom  of  the  bank.  You  can  see 
that  they  are  not  here." 

Kennedy  had  taken  the  light  and  climbed  the  bank 
again  and  was  now  going  over  the  road  as  minutely 
as  if  he  were  searching  for  a  lost  diamond. 

"  Look!  "  he  exclaimed. 

Where  the  Whitney  car  had  skidded  and  gone 
over  the  bank,  the  tires  had  dug  deep  into  the  top 
dressing,  making  little  mounds.  Across  them  now 
we  could  see  the  tracks  of  other  tires  that  had 
pressed  down  the  mounds. 

"  Some  one  else  has  been  here,"  reconstructed 
Kennedy.  "  He  passed,  then  stopped  and  backed 
up.  Perhaps  they  were  thrown  out,  unconscious,  and 
he  picked  them  up." 

It  seemed  to  be  the  only  reasonable  supposition. 

"  But  they  knew  nothing  at  the  next  house,"  per 
sisted  Burke. 

"  Is  there  a  road  leading  off  before  you  get  to  the 
house?  "  asked  Kennedy. 


THE  POLICE  DOG  275 

"  Yes — it  crosses  the  line  into  Massachusetts." 

"  It  is  worth  trying — it  is  the  only  thing  we  can 
do,"  decided  Kennedy.  "  Drive  slowly  to  the  cross 
roads.  Perhaps  we  can  pick  out  the  tire-prints  there. 
They  certainly  won't  show  on  the  road  itself.  It  is 
too  hard." 

At  the  crossing  we  stopped  and  Kennedy  dropped 
down  on  his  hands  and  knees  again  with  the  light. 

"  There  it  is,"  he  exclaimed.  "  The  same  make 
of  anti-skid  tire,  at  least.  There  was  a  cut  in  the 
rear  tire — just  like  this.  See?  It  is  the  finger-print 
of  the  motor  car.  I  think  we  are  right.  Turn  up 
here  and  run  slowly." 

On  we  went  slowly,  Kennedy  riding  on  the  run 
ning  board  of  the  car  ahead.  Suddenly  he  raised  his 
hand  to  stop,  and  jumped  down. 

We  gathered  about  him.  Had  he  found  a  con 
tinuation  of  the  tire-tracks?  There  were  tracks  but 
he  was  not  looking  at  them.  He  was  looking  be 
tween  them.  There  ran  a  thin  line. 

He  stuck  his  finger  in  it  and  sniffed.  "  Not  gas," 
he  remarked.  "  It  must  have  been  the  radiator, 
leaking.  Perhaps  he  ran  his  car  into  Whitney's — 
forced  it  too  far  to  the  edge  of  the  road.  We 
can't  tell.  But  he  couldn't  have  gone  far  with  that 
leak  without  finding  water — or  cracked  cylinders." 

With  redoubled  interest  now  we  resumed  the 
chase.  We  had  mounted  a  hill  and  had  run  down 
into  the  shadows  of  a  valley  when,  following  in  the 
second  car,  we  heard  a  shout  from  Kennedy  in  the 
first. 


276         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Halfway  up  the  hill  across  the  valley,  he  had  come 
upon  an  abandoned  car.  It  had  evidently  reached 
its  limit,  the  momentum  of  the  previous  hill  had 
carried  it  so  far  up  the  other,  then  the  driver  had 
stopped  it  and  let  it  back  slowly  off  the  road  into  a 
clump  of  bushes  that  hid  a  little  gully. 

But  that  was  all.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  a  per 
son  about.  Whatever  had  happened  here  had  hap 
pened  some  hours  before.  We  looked  about.  All 
was  Cimmerian  darkness.  Not  a  house  or  habitation 
of  man  or  beast  was  in  sight,  though  they  might  not 
be  far  away. 

We  beat  about  the  under-brush,  but  succeeded  in 
stirring  up  nothing  but  mosquitoes. 

What  were  we  to  do?  We  were  wasting  valuable 
time.  Where  should  we  go? 

"  I  doubt  whether  they  would  have  kept  on  the 
road,"  reasoned  Kennedy.  "  They  must  have 
known  they  would  be  followed.  The  hardest  place 
to  follow  them  would  be  across  country." 

"With  a  lantern?"  I  objected.  "We  can't  do 
it." 

Kennedy  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  It  will  be  three 
hours  before  there  is  light  enough  to  see  anything 
by,"  he  considered.  "  They  have  had  at  least  a 
couple  of  hours.  Five  hours  is  too  good  a  start. 
Burke — take  one  of  the  cars.  Go  ahead  along  the 
road.  We  mustn't  neglect  that.  I'll  take  the  other. 
I  want  to  get  back  to  that  house  and  call  O'Connor. 
Walter,  you  stay  here  with  the  rest." 

We   separated  and  I   felt  that,   although  I   was 


THE  POLICE  DOG  277 

doing  nothing,  I  had  my  hands  full  watching  these 
three. 

Lockwood  was  restless  and  could  not  help  beating 
around  in  the  under-brush,  in  the  hope  of  turning  up 
something.  Now  and  then  he  would  mutter  to  him 
self  some  threat  if  anything  happened  to  Inez.  I 
let  him  occupy  himself,  for  our  own,  as  much  as  his, 
peace  of  mind.  Alfonso  had  joined  his  mother  in 
the  car  and  they  sat  there  conversing  in  low  tones 
in  Spanish,  while  I  watched  them  furtively. 

Of  a  sudden,  I  became  aware  that  I  missed  the 
sound  of  Lockwood  beating  about  the  under-brush. 
I  called,  but  there  was  no  answer.  Then  we  all 
called.  There  came  back  nothing  but  a  mocking 
echo.  I  could  not  follow  him.  If  I  did,  I  would  lose 
the  de  Moches. 

Had  he  been  laying  low,  waiting  his  opportunity  to 
get  away?  Or  was  he  playing  a  lone  hand?  Much 
as  I  suspected  about  him,  during  the  past  few  hours  I 
had  come  to  admire  him. 

I  sent  the  de  Moche  driver  out  to  look  for  him, 
but  he  seemed  afraid  to  venture  far,  and,  of  course, 
returned  and  said  that  he  could  not  find  him.  Even 
in  his  getaway,  Lockwood  had  been  characteristic. 
He  had  been  strong  enough  to  bide  his  time,  clever 
enough  to  throw  every  one  off  guard.  It  put  a  new 
aspect  on  the  case  for  me.  Had  Whitney  intended 
the  capture  of  Inez  for  Lockwood?  Had  our  com 
ing  so  unexpectedly  into  the  case  thrown  the  plans 
awry  and  was  it  the  purpose  to  leave  them  marooned 
at  Rockledge  while  we  were  shunted  off  in  the  city? 


278         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

That,  too,  was  plausible.  I  wished  Kennedy  would 
return  before  anything  else  happened. 

It  was  not  long  by  the  clock  before  Kennedy  did 
return.  But  it  seemed  ages  to  me. 

He  was  not  alone.  With  him  was  a  man  in  a 
uniform,  and  a  powerful  dog,  for  all  the  world  like 
a  huge  wolf. 

"  Down,  Searchlight,"  he  ordered,  as  the  dog  be 
gan  to  show  an  uncanny  interest  in  me.  "  Let  me 
introduce  my  new  dog  detective,"  he  chuckled.  "  She 
has  a  wonderful  record  as  a  police  dog.  I  got 
O'Connor  out  of  bed  and  he  telephoned  out  to  the 
nearest  suburban  station.  That  saved  a  good  deal 
of  time  in  getting  her  up  here." 

I  mustered  up  courage  to  tell  Kennedy  of  the  de 
fection  of  Lockwood.  He  did  not  seem  to  mind  it 
especially. 

"  He  won't  get  far,  with  the  dog  after  him,  if  we 
want  to  take  the  time,"  he  said.  "  She's  a  German 
sheep  dog,  a  Schaeferhund." 

Searchlight  seemed  to  have  many  of  the  char 
acteristics  of  the  wild,  prehistoric  animal,  among 
them  the  full,  upright  ears  of  the  wild  dog,  which 
are  such  a  great  help  to  it.  She  was  a  fine,  alert, 
upstanding  dog,  hardy,  fierce,  and  literally  untiring, 
of  a  tawny  light  brown  like  a  lioness,  about  the  same 
size  and  somewhat  of  the  type  of  the  smooth-coated 
collie,  broad  of  chest  and  with  a  full  brush  of  tail. 
Untamed  as  she  seemed,  she  was  perfectly  under 
Kennedy's  control  and  rendered  him  absolute  and 
unreasoning  obedience. 

They  took  her  over  to  the  abandoned  car.    There 


THE  POLICE  DOG  279 

they  let  her  get  a  good  whiff  of  the  bottom  of  the 
car  about  the  driver's  feet,  and  a  moment  later  she 
started  off. 

Alfonso  and  his  mother  insisted  on  going  with  us 
and  that  made  our  progress  across  country  slow. 

On  we  went  over  the  rough  country,  through  a 
field,  then  skirting  a  clump  of  woods  until  at  last 
we  came  to  a  lane. 

We  stopped  in  the  shadow  of  a  thicket.  There 
was  an  empty  summer  home.  Was  there  some  in 
truder  there?  Was  it  really  empty? 

Now  and  then  we  could  hear  Searchlight  scouting 
about  in  the  under-brush,  crouching  and  hiding, 
watching  and  guarding.  We  paused  and  waited  in 
the  heavily-laden  night  air,  wondering.  The  sough 
ing  of  the  night  wind  in  the  evergreens  was  mourn 
ful.  Did  it  betoken  a  further  tragedy? 

There  was  a  slight  noise  from  the  other  side  of 
the  house.  Craig  reached  out  and  drew  us  back 
into  the  shadow  of  the  thicket,  deeper. 

"  Some  one  is  prowling  about,  I  think.  Leave  it 
to  the  dog." 

Searchlight,  who  had  been  near  us,  was  sniffing 
eagerly.  From  our  hiding-place  we  could  just  see 
her.  She  had  heard  the  sounds,  too,  even  before  we 
had,  and  for  an  instant  stood  with  every  muscle 
tense. 

Then,  like  an  arrow,  she  darted  into  the  under 
brush.  An  instant  later,  the  sharp  crack  of  a  re 
volver  rang  out.  Searchlight  kept  right  on,  never 
stopping  a  second,  except,  perhaps,  in  surprise. 

"  Crack!  "  almost  in  her  face  came  a  second  spit 


28o         THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

of  fire  in  the  darkness,  and  a  bullet  crashed  through 
the  leaves  and  buried  itself  in  a  tree  with  a  ping. 
The  intruder's  marksmanship  was  poor,  but  the  dog 
paid  no  attention  to  it. 

"  One  of  the  few  animals  that  show  no  fear  of 
gun-fire,"  muttered  Kennedy,  in  undisguised  admira 
tion. 

"  G-r-r-r,"  we  heard  from  the  police  dog. 

"  She  has  made  a  leap  at  the  hand  that  holds  the 
gun,"  cried  Kennedy,  now  rising  and  moving  rapidly 
in  the  same  direction.  "  She  has  been  taught  that  a 
man  once  badly  bitten  in  the  hand  is  nearly  out  of 
the  fight." 

We  followed  also.  As  we  approached  we  were 
just  in  time  to  see  Searchlight  running  in  and  out 
between  the  legs  of  a  man  who  had  heard  us  ap 
proach  and  was  hastily  making  tracks  away.  As  he 
tripped,  the  officer  who  brought  her  blew  shrilly  on 
a  police  whistle  just  in  time  to  stop  a  fierce  lunge  at 
his  back. 

Reluctantly,  Searchlight  let  go.  One  could  see 
that  with  all  her  canine  instinct  she  wanted  to  "  get " 
that  man.  Her  jaws  were  open,  as,  with  longing 
eyes,  she  stood  over  the  prostrate  form  in  the  grass. 
The  whistle  was  a  signal,  and  she  had  been  taught 
to  obey  unquestioningly. 

"  Don't  move  until  we  get  to  you,  or  you  are  a 
dead  man,"  shouted  Kennedy,  pulling  an  automatic 
as  he  ran.  "  Are  you  hurt?  " 

There  was  no  answer,  but,  as  we  approached,  the 
man  moved,  ever  so  little,  through  curiosity  to  see 
his  pursuers. 


THE  POLICE  DOG  281 

Searchlight  shot  forward.  Again  the  whistle 
sounded  and  she  dropped  back.  We  bent  over  to 
seize  him,  as  Kennedy  secured  the  dog. 

"  She's  a  devil,"  ground  out  the  prone  figure  on 
the  grass. 

"  Lockwood!  "  exclaimed  Kennedy. 


XXV 

THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

:<TY7HAT    are    you    doing    here?"    demanded 

VV     Craig,  astonished. 

"  I  couldn't  wait  for  you  to  get  back.  I  thought 
I'd  do  a  little  detective  work  on  my  own  account.  I 
kept  getting  further  and  further  away,  knew  you'd 
find  me,  anyhow.  But  I  didn't  think  you'd  have  a 
brute  like  that,"  he  added,  binding  up  his  hand  rue 
fully.  "Is  there  any  trace  of  Inez?" 

"Not  yet.  Why  did  you  pick  out  this  house?  " 
asked  Kennedy,  still  suspicious. 

"  I  saw  a  light  here,  I  thought,"  answered  Lock- 
wood  frankly.  "  But  as  I  approached,  it  went  out. 
Maybe  I  imagined  it." 

"  Let  us  see." 

Kennedy  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  man  with  the 
dog.  He  slipped  the  leash,  with  a  word  that  we  did 
not  catch,  and  the  dog  bounded  off,  around  the 
house,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  do  when  out  on  duty 
with  an  officer  in  the  city  suburbs,  circling  about  the 
backs  of  houses  as  the  man  on  the  beat  walked  the 
street.  She  made  noise  enough  about  it,  too,  tum 
bling  over  a  tin  pail  that  had  been  standing  on  the 
back  porch  steps. 

"Bang!" 

Some  one  was  in  the  house  and  was  armed.  In 

283 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS         283 

the  darkness  he  had  not  been  able  to  tell  whether 
an  attack  was  being  made  or  not,  but  had  taken  no 
chances.  At  any  rate,  now  we  knew  that  he  was 
desperate. 

I  thought  of  all  the  methods  Kennedy  had  adopted 
to  get  into  houses  in  which  the  inmates  were  des 
perate.  But  always  they  had  been  about  the  city 
where  he  could  call  upon  the  seemingly  exhaustless 
store  of  apparatus  in  his  laboratory.  Here  we  were 
faced  by  the  proposition  with  nothing  to  rely  on  but 
our  native  wit  and  a  couple  of  guns. 

Besides,  I  did  not  know  whether  to  count  on 
Lockwood  as  an  ally  or  not.  My  estimation  of 
him  had  been  rising  and  falling  like  the  barometer  in 
a  summer  shower.  I  had  been  convinced  that  he 
was  against  us.  But  his  manner  and  plausibility  now 
equally  convinced  me  that  I  had  been  mistaken.  I 
felt  that  it  would  take  some  supreme  action  on  his 
part  to  settle  the  question.  That  crisis  was  coming 
now. 

I  think  all  of  us  would  willingly  have  pushed  Al 
fonso  forward.  But  the  relations  of  the  de  Moches 
with  Whitney  had  been  so  close  that  I  no  more 
trusted  him  than  I  did  Lockwood.  And  if  I  could 
not  make  out  Lockwood,  a  man  at  least  of  our  own 
race  and  education,  how  could  I  expect  to  fathom 
Alfonso? 

It  seemed,  then,  to  rest  with  Kennedy  and  myself. 
At  least  so  Craig  appraised  the  situation. 

"  You  have  a  gun,  Walter,"  he  directed,  "  Lock- 
wood,  give  yours  to  Jameson." 


284          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

Lockwood  hesitated.  Could  he  trust  being  un 
armed,  while  Kennedy  and  I  had  all  the  weapons? 

Craig  had  not  stopped  to  ask  Alfonso.  As  he  laid 
out  the  attack  he  merely  tapped  the  young  man's 
pockets  to  see  whether  he  was  armed  or  not,  and 
finding  nothing  faced  us  again,  Lockwood  still  hesi 
tating. 

"  I  want  Walter,"  explained  Craig,  "  to  go  around 
back  of  the  house.  It  is  there  they  must  be  expecting 
an  attack.  He  can  take  up  his  position  behind  that 
oak.  It  will  be  safe  enough.  By  firing  one  gun  on 
each  side  of  the  tree  he  can  make  enough  noise  for 
half  a  dozen.  Then  you  and  I  can  rush  the  front 
of  the  house." 

Lockwood  had  nothing  better  to  suggest.  Re 
luctantly  he  handed  over  his  revolver. 

I  dropped  back  from  them  and  skirted  the  house 
at  a  safe  distance  so  as  not  to  be  seen,  then  came  up 
back  of  the  tree. 

Carefully  I  aimed  at  the  glass  of  a  window  on  the 
first  floor,  as  offering  the  greatest  opportunity  for 
making  a  racket,  which  was  the  object  I  had  in 
mind. 

I  fired  from  the  right  and  the  glass  was  shattered 
in  a  thousand  bits.  Another  shot  from  the  left  broke 
the  light  out  of  another  window  on  the  opposite  side. 

The  house  was  a  sort  of  bungalow,  with  most  of 
the  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  and  a  small  second  story 
or  attic  window.  That  went  next.  Altogether  I 
felt  that  I  was  giving  a  splendid  account  of  myself. 

From  the  house  came  a  rapid  volley  in  reply. 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS    285 

Whoever  was  in  there  was  not  going  to  surrender 
without  a  fight.  One  after  another  I  plugged  away 
with  my  shots,  now  bent  on  making  the  most  of  them. 
With  the  answering  shots  it  made  quite  a  merry  little 
fusillade,  and  I  was  glad  enough  to  have  the  shelter 
of  the  staunch  oak  which  two  or  three  times  was 
hit  squarely  at  about  the  level  of  my  shoulders.  I 
had  never  before  heard  the  whirr  of  so  many  bullets 
about  me,  and  I  cannot  say  that  I  enjoyed  it. 

But  my  attack  was  what  Craig  wanted.  I  heard  a 
noise  in  the  front  of  the  house,  as  of  feet  running, 
and  then  I  knew  that  in  spite  of  all  he  had  given  me 
the  least  dangerous  part  of  the  attack. 

I  plugged  away  valiantly  with  what  shots  I  had 
left,  then  leaving  just  one  more  in  the  chamber  of 
each  gun,  I  hurried  around  in  the  shadow,  my  blood 
up,  to  help  them. 

With  the  aid  of  the  officer,  they  had  just  forced 
the  light  door  and  Searchlight  had  been  allowed  to 
leap  in  ahead  of  them,  as  I  came  up. 

u  Here,"  I  said  to  Lockwood,  handing  him 
back  his  gun,  "  take  it,  there  is  just  one  shot  left." 

I,  at  least,  had  expected  to  find  one,  perhaps 
two  desperate  men  waiting  for  us.  Evidently  our 
ruse  had  worked.  The  room  was  dark,  but  there 
seemed  to  be  no  one  in  it,  though  we  could  hear 
sounds  as  though  some  one  were  hastily  barricading 
the  door  that  led  from  the  front  to  the  room  at 
which  I  had  been  firing. 

Lockwood  struck  a  match. 

"  Confound  it,  don't !  "  muttered  Craig,  knocking 


286          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

it  from  his  hand.  "  They  can  see  us  well  enough 
without  helping  them." 

"Chester!" 

We  stood  transfixed.  It  was  a  woman's  voice. 
Where  did  it  come  from?  Could  she  be  in  the 
room? 

"  Chester — is  that  you?  " 

"  Yes,  Inez.    Where  are  you?  " 

"  I  ran  up  here — in  this  attic — when  I  heard  the 
shots." 

"  Come  down,  then.    All  is  right,  now." 

She  came  down  a  half  ladder,  half  flight  of  steps. 
At  the  foot  she  paused  just  a  moment  and  hesitated. 
Then,  like  a  frightened  bird,  she  flew  to  the  safety 
of  Lockwood's  arms. 

"  Mr.  Whitney,"  she  sobbed,  "  called  me  up  and 
told  me  that  he  had  something  very  important  to 
say,  a  message  from  you.  He  said  that  he  had  the 
dagger,  in  his  safe,  up  in  the  country.  He  told  me 
you'd  be  there  and  that  you  expected  me  to  come 
up  with  him  in  his  car.  I  went.  We  had  some 
trouble  with  the  engine.  And  then  that  other  car — 
the  one  that  followed  us,  came  up  behind  and  forced 
us  off  the  bank.  Mr.  Whitney  and  I  were  both 
stunned.  I  don't  remember  a  thing  after  that,  until 
I  woke  up  here.  Where  is  it?  " 

I  listened,  with  one  eye  on  that  door  that  had 
been  barricaded.  Was  Lockwood  really  innocent, 
after  all?  I  could  not  think  that  Inez  Mendoza 
could  make  such  a  mistake,  if  he  were  not. 

Lockwood  clenched  his  fists.  "  Some  one  shall 
pay  for  this,"  he  exclaimed. 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS    287 

There  was  the  problem — the  inner  room.  Who 
would  go  in?  We  looked  at  each  other  a  moment. 

The  room  in  which  we  were  was  a  living  room, 
and  perhaps,  when  there  were  visitors  in  the  little 
house,  was  a  guest-room.  At  any  rate,  on  one  side 
was  a  huge  davenport  by  day  which  could  be  trans 
formed  into  a  folding  bed  at  night. 

Lockwood  looked  about  hastily  and  his  eye  fell  on 
the  door,  then  on  this  folding  bed. 

With  a  wrench,  he  opened  it  and  seized  the  cotton 
mattress  from  the  inside.  With  his  gun  ready  he 
advanced  toward  the  barricaded  door,  holding  the 
mattress  as  a  shield,  for  his  experience  in  wild  coun 
tries  had  taught  him  that  a  cotton  mattress  is  about 
as  good  a  thing  to  stop  bullets  as  one  could  find  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment. 

Kennedy  and  the  officer  followed  just  behind,  and 
the  three  threw  their  weights  on  the  door  almost 
before  we  knew  what  they  were  about. 

"  Chester — don't!  "  cried  Inez  in  alarm,  too  late. 
"He'll— kill  you!" 

The  excitement  had  been  too  much  for  her.  She 
reeled,  fainting,  and  I  caught  her. 

Before  I  could  restore  the  davenport  to  something 
like  its  original  condition  so  that  we  could  take  care 
of  her,  the  first  onslaught  was  over. 

Three  guns  were  sticking  their  blue  noses  into  the 
darkness  of  the  next  room. 

"  Hands  up  !  "  shouted  Craig.  "  Drop  your  gun ! 
Let  me  hear  it  fall !  " 

There  followed  a  thud  and  Kennedy,  followed  by 
Lockwood  and  the  officer  entered. 


288          THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS 

As  they  fumbled  to  strike  a  light,  I  managed  to 
open  a  window  and  let  in  some  fresh  air,  while  the 
Senora,  for  once  human,  loosened  the  throat  of 
Inez'  dress  and  fanned  her. 

Through  the  open  door,  now,  I  could  hear  what 
was  going  on  in  the  next  room,  but  could  not  see. 

"  It  was  you,  Lockwood,"  I  heard  a  familiar 
voice  accusing,  "  who  was  in  the  Museum  the  night 
the  dagger  disappeared." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lockwood,  a  bit  disdainfully.  "  I 
suspected  something  crooked  about  that  dagger.  I 
thought  that  if  I  made  a  copy  of  the  inscription  on 
the  blade,  I  might  decipher  it  myself,  or  get  some 
one  to  do  it  for  me.  I  went  in  and,  when  a  chance 
came,  I  hid  in  the  sarcophagus.  There  I  waited 
until  the  Museum  was  closed.  Then,  when  finally 
I  got  to  the  place  where  I  thought  the  dagger  was — 
it  was  gone !  " 

'  The  point  is,"  cut  in  Craig,  interrupting,  "  who 
was  the  mysterious  visitor  to  Mendoza  the  night  of 
his  murder?  " 

He  paused.  No  one  seemed  to  be  disposed  to 
answer  and  he  went  on,  "  Who  else  than  the  man 
who  sought  to  sell  the  secret  on  its  blade,  in  return 
for  Inez  for  whom  he  had  a  secret  passion?  I  have 
reasoned  it  all  out — the  offer,  the  quarrel,  the  stab 
bing  with  the  dagger  itself,  and  the  escape  down  the 
stairs,  instead  of  by  the  elevator." 

"  And  I,"  put  in  Lockwood,  "  coming  to  report  to 
Mendoza  my  failure  to  find  the  dagger,  found  him 


THE  GOLD  OF  THE  GODS         289 

dead — and  at  once  was  suspected  of  being  the  mur 
derer!  " 

Inez  had  revived  and  her  quick  ears  had  caught 
her  lover's  voice  and  the  last  words. 

Weak  as  she  was,  she  sprang  up  and  fairly  ran  into 
the  next  room.  "  No — Chester — No !  "  she  cried. 
"  I  never  suspected — not  even  when  I  saw  the  shoe- 
prints.  No — that  is  the  man, — there — I  know  it — I 
know  it!  " 

I  hurried  after  her,  as  she  flung  herself  again  be 
tween  Lockwood  and  the  rest  of  us,  as  if  to  shield 
him,  while  Lockwood  proudly  caressed  the  stray 
locks  of  dark  hair  that  fluttered  on  his  shoulder. 

I  looked  in  the  direction  all  were  looking. 

Before  us  stood,  unmasked  at  last,  the  scientific 
villain  who  had  been  plotting  and  scheming  to  cap 
ture  both  the  secret  and  Inez — well  knowing  that  sus 
picion  would  rest  either  on  Lockwood,  the  soldier  of 
fortune,  or  on  the  jealous  Indian  woman  whose  son 
had  been  rejected  and  whose  brother  he  had  himself 
already,  secretly,  driven  to  an  insane  suicide  in  his 
unscrupulous  search  for  the  treasure  of  Truxillo. 

It  was  Professor  Norton,  himself — first  thief  of 
the  dagger  which  later  he  had  hidden  but  which 
Whitney's  detectives  had  stolen  in  turn  from  him; 
writer  of  anonymous  letters,  even  to  himself  to 
throw  others  off  the  trail;  maker  of  stramonium 
cigarettes  with  which  to  confuse  the  minds  of  his 
opponents,  Whitney,  Mendoza,  and  the  rest;  secret 
lover  of  Inez  whom  he  demanded  as  the  price  of  the 
dagger;  and  murderer  of  Don  Luis. 


A     000  034  546     2 


•I 


11111 


^  i    .    '  ;.  ^. 


